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LORNA    DOONE 


Ttjomas  TQ.  (Zvowzll  &  Co. 
Hen)  Vfotk  an&  Soston. 


LOEI^A    DOONE 


A  Romance  of  Exmoor 


By  R   D.   BLACKMOKE 

AUTHOR  OF   "  CRADOCK  NOWELL,"   "ALICE   LORRAINE,"   "CLARA 
VAUGHAN,"  ETC. 


M>J  /xot  yav  ne'Ao7ro9,  jti^  jaot  xpvmia  raXavTa 
'AAV  inr'o  Ta   TreVpo   raS'  daOfiai,  ciyKa?  e^iui'  tu. 


IN   TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL.   L 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL    &   CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1893, 
Bt  T.  Y.  OROWELL  &  CO, 


PREFACE. 


This  work  is  called  a  "  romance,"  because  the  incidents, 
characters,  time,  and  scenery  are  alike  romantic.  And  in 
shaping  this  old  tale,  the  Writer  neither  dares,  nor  desires,  to 
claim  for  it  the  dignity,  or  cumber  it  with  the  difficulty  of  an 
historic  novel. 

And  yet  he  thinks  that  the  outlines  are  filled  in  more 
carefully,  and  the  situations  (however  simple)  more  warmly 
colored  and  quickened,  than  a  reader  would  expect  to  find 
in  what  is  called  a  "legend." 

And  he  knows  that  any  son  of  Exmoor,  chancing  on  this 
volume,  cannot  fail  to  bring  to  mind  the  nurse-tales  of  his 
childhood  —  the  savage  deeds  of  the  outlaw  Doones  in  the 
depth  of  Bagworthy  Forest,  the  beauty  of  the  hapless  maid 
brought  up  in  the  midst  of  them,  the  plain  John  Ridd's 
Herculean  power,  and  (memory's  too  congenial  food)  the 
exploits  of  Tom  Faggus. 

March,  1869. 

iii 


PREFACE. 

TO     THE     SIXTH     EDITION. 


Few  things  have  surprised  me  more,  and  nothing  has  more 
pleased  me,  than  the  great  success  of  this  simple  tale. 

For  truly  it  is  a  grand  success,  to  win  the  attention  and 
kind  regard,  not  of  the  general  public  only,  but  also  of  those 
who  are  at  home  with  the  scenery,  people,  life,  and  language, 
wherein  a  native  cannot  always  satisfy  the  natives. 

Therefore  any  son  of  Devon  may  imagine,  and  will  not 
grudge,  the  writer's  delight  at  hearing  from  a  recent  visitor 
to  the  west,  that,  " '  Lorna  Doone,'  to  a  Devonshire  man,  is 
as  good  as  clotted  cream,  almost ! " 

Although  not  half  so  good  as  that,  it  has  entered  many  a 
tranquil,  happy,  pure,  and  hospitable  home  ;  and  the  author, 
while  deeply  grateful  for  this  genial  reception,  ascribes  it 
partly  to  the  fact  that  his  story  contains  no  word,  or  thought, 
disloyal  to  its  birthright  in  the  fairest  county  of  England. 

January,  1873. 

iv 


CONTENTS. 


Vol.  I. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Elements   of   Education 1 

II.     An  Important  Item 4 

III.  The  War-path  of  the   Doones 12 

IV.  A  Hash  Visit 23 

V.     An  Illegal   Settlement 30 

VI.     Necessary   Practice 35 

VII.     Hard   it   is  to   climb 41 

VIII.     A  Boy  and  a   Girl 50 

IX.     There  is  No  Place   like  Home 57 

X.     A  Brave  Rescue  and  a  Rough  Ride 63 

XI.     Tom  Deserves  his  Supper  .    G9 

XII.     A  Man  justly  Popular 76 

XIII.  Master  Huckaback  cosies  in 84 

XIV.  A  Motion  which  ends  in  a  Mull 92 

XV.     Quo  Warranto? 97 

XVI.       LORNA    GROWING    FORMIDABLE 105 

XVII.     John  is    bewitched Ill 

XVIII.     Witchery   leads  to  Witchcraft...  118 

XIX.     Another  Dangerous  Interview 122 

XX.     Lorna  begins  her  Story 128 

XXI.     Lorna  ends  her  Story 134 

XXII.     A  Long    Spring   Month 141 

XXIII.  A  Royal  Invitation 147 

XXIV.  A  Safe  Pass  for  King's  Messenger 15fi 

XXV.     A  r.REAT  Man   attends  to  Business 163 

XXVI.     John    is   drained  and  cast  asiui; 171 

V 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PASS 

XXVII.     Home  again  at  last 178 

XXVIII.     John  has  Hope  of  Lorna 181 

XXIX.     Reaping  leads  to  Revelling 191 

XXX.     Annie  gets  the  Best  of  it 199 

XXXI.     John  Fry's  Errand 208 

XXXII.     Feeding  of  the  Pigs 218 

XXXIII.  An  Early  Morning  Call 228 

XXXIV.  Two  Negatives  make  an  Affirmative 231 

XXXV.     Ruth  is  not  like  Lorna 236 

XXXVI.     John  returns  to  Business 242 

XXXVII.     A  VERY  Desperate  Venture 248 

XXXVIII.     A  Good  Turn  for  Jeremy 259 

XXXIX.     A  Troubled  State  and  a  Foolish  Joke 268 

XL.     Two  Fools  together 280 

XLL     Cold  Comfort - .  •  288 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Drawings  by   Frank   T.  Merrill. 
Engraved  by  John  Andre ic  ^  Son. 


Vol.  I. 


PAGE 


"A    LITTLE     GIRL     KNEELING    AT    MY    SIDE    WAS    RUBBING    MY    FORE- 
HEAD TENDERLY."     (See  page  50.) Frontiapiece. 

Portrait  of  R.  D.  Blacioiore rule. 

'"'■  I  pumped  for  her  very  heartily  " 15 

"  She   leaped   the  wide  water-trougii   sideways   across   to 

and  fro  till  no  breath  was  left  in  me  " 09 

lorna  doone 108 

"  is  our  admiration  mutual  ?  " 136 

"  In    THE    NAME    OF    GOD,    SIR,    LET    ME    GO  !," 16G 

"  He    LEANED    OVER  AND    PEERED  IN    AROUND    THE   ROCKY  CORNER,"  215 

"  as  i  seized  upon  his  bridle  " 2(57 

"  Fools  y'ou  are  :  be  fools  forever  " 288 


Vol.  II. 

"  God  bless  tou,  my'  sweet  child  !  " 26 

"  Annie    bound   the    broken   arm   of   the   one   avhom    I    had 

knocked  down  " 'iS 

"'You  know,   my  son,'  said  Jeremy   Stickles,   with   a  good 

pull  at  his  pipe  " 98 

"She   pressed  my  hand  with  hicks,  that  now   I   might  tell 

her  all  of  it  "  , 125 

"  With  all  my  power,  descending,  delivered  the  ponderous 

onset  " 159 

"The  men  raised  their  pieces  and  pointed  at  me" 217 

"He  gave  me  a  littli;  tap  vkkv  nki.i.v   upon   mv  sikhildf-h,"  245 

Carver  Doone 275 


LORNA    DOONE: 

A   ROMANCE   OF   EXMOOR. 

O-OJ^OO 

CHAPTER  I. 

ELEMENTS    OF   EDUCATION. 

If  anybody  cares  to  read  a  simple  tale  told  simply,  I,  John 
Ridd,  of  the  parish  of  Oare,  in  the  county  of  Somerset,  yeoman 
and  churchwarden,  have  seen  and  had  a  share  in  some  doings 
of  this  neighborhood,  which  I  will  try  to  set  down  in  order, 
God  sparing  my  life  and  memory.  And  they  who  light  upon 
this  book  should  bear  in  mind,  not  only  that  I  write  for  the 
clearing  of  our  parish  from  ill-fame  and  calumny,  but  also  a 
thing  which  will,  I  trow,  appear  too  often  in  it,  to  wit  —  that 
I  am  nothing  more  than  a  plain  unlettered  man,  not  read  in 
foreign  languages,  as  a  gentleman  might  be,  nor  gifted  with 
long  words  (even  in  mine  own  tongue),  save  what  I  may  have 
won  from  the  Bible,  or  Master  William  Shakespeare,  whom,  in 
the  face  of  common  opinion,  I  do  value  highly.  In  short,  I  am 
an  ignoramus,  but  pretty  well  for  a  yeoman. 

My  father  being  of  good  substance,  at  least  as  we  reckon  in 
Exmoor,  and  seized  in  his  own  right,  from  many  generations, 
of  one,  and  that  the  best  and  largest,  of  the  three  farms  into 
which  our  parish  is  divided  (or  rather  the  cultured  part 
thereof),  he,  John  Ridd,  the  elder,  churchwarden  and  overseer, 
being  a  great  admirer  of  learning,  and  well  able  to  write  his 
name,  sent  me  his  only  son  to  be  schooled  at  Tiverton,  in  the 
county  of  Devon.  For  tlie  chief  boast  of  tliat  ancient  town 
(next  to  its  woollen-staple)  is  a  worthy  grammar-school,  the 
largest  in  the  west  of  England,  founded  and  handsomely 
endowed  in  the  year  1G04,  by  Master  i'eter  lilundell,  of  that 
same  place,  clothier. 

VOL.  I. —  1  1 


2  LORN  A  DOONE. 

Here,  by  the  time  I  was  twelve  years  old,  I  had  risen  into 
the  upper  school,  and  could  make  bold  with  Eutropius  and 
Csesar  —  by  aid  of  an  English  version  —  and  as  much  as  six 
lines  of  Ovid.  Some  even  said  that  I  might,  before  manhood, 
rise  almost  to  the  third  form,  being  of  a  persevering  nature ; 
albeit,  by  full  consent  of  all  (except  my  mother),  thick-headed. 
But  that  would  have  been,  as  I  now  perceive,  an  ambition 
beyond  a  farmer's  son;  for  there  is  but  one  form  above  it,  and 
that  made  of  masterful  scholars,  entitled  rightly  "monitors." 
So  it  came  to  pass,  by  the  grace  of  God,  that  I  was  called  away 
from  learning,  whilst  sitting  at  the  desk  of  the  junior  first 
in  the  upper  school,  and  beginning  the  Greek  verb  tutttw. 

My  eldest  grandson  makes  bold  to  say  that  I  never  could  have 
learned  (^iXcw,  ten  pages  further  on,  being  all  he  himself  could 
manage,  with  plenty  of  stripes  to  help  him.  I  know  that  he 
hath  more  head  than  I  —  though  never  will  he  have  such  body ; 
and  am  thankful  to  have  stopped  betimes,  with  a  meek  and 
wholesome  head-piece. 

But  if  you  doubt  of  my  having  been  there,  because  now  I 
know  so  little,  go  and  see  my  name,  "John  Kidd,"  graven  on 
that  very  form.  Forsooth,  from  the  time  I  was  strong  enough 
to  open  a  knife  and  to  spell  my  name,  I  began  to  grave  it 
in  the  oak,  first  of  the  block  whereon  I  sate,  and  then  of  the 
desk  in  front  of  it,  according  as  I  was  promoted  from  one  to 
other  of  them :  and  there  my  grandson  reads  it  now,  at  this 
present  time  of  writing,  and  hath  fought  a  boy  for  scoffing  at 
it — "John  Eidd  his  name,"  —  and  done  again  in"winkeys," 
a  mischievous  but  cheerful  device,  in  which  we  took  great 
pleasure. 

This  is  the  manner  of  a  "winkey,"  which  I  here  set  down, 
lest  child  of  mine,  or  grandchild,  dare  to  make  one  on  my 
premises ;  if  he  does,  I  shall  know  the  mark  at  once,  and  score 
it  well  upon  him.  The  scholar  obtains,  by  prayer  or  price,  a 
handful  of  salt-petre,  and  then  with  the  knife,  wherewith  he 
should  rather  be  trying  to  mend  his  pens,  what  does  he  do  but 
scoop  a  hole  where  the  desk  is  some  three  inches  thick.  This 
hole  should  be  left  with  the  middle  exalted,  and  the  circumfere 
dug  more  deeply.  Then  let  him  fill  it  with  salt-petre,  all 
save  a  little  space  in  the  midst,  where  the  boss  of  the  wood  is. 
Upon  that  boss  (and  it  will  be  the  better  if  a  splinter  of  timber 
rise  upward)  he  sticks  the  end  of  his  candle  of  tallow,  or  "  rat's 
tail,"  as  we  called  it,  kindled  and  burning  smoothly.  Anon, 
as  he  reads  by  that  light  his  lesson,  lifting  his  eyes  now  and 
then  it  may  be,    the  fire   of   candle  lays  hold  of   the  petre 


ELEMENTS   OF  EDUCATION.  3 

witli  a  spluttering  noise  and  a  leaping.  Then  should  the  pupil 
seize  his  pen,  and,  regardless  of  the  nib,  stir  bravely,  and  he 
will  see  a  glow  as  of  burning  mountains,  and  a  rich  smoke,  and 
sparks  going  merrily ;  nor  will  it  cease,  if  he  stir  wisely,  and 
there  be  good  store  of  petre,  until  the  wood  is  devoured  through, 
like  the  sinking  of  a  well-shaft.  Now  well  may  it  go  with  the 
head  of  a  boy  intent  upon  his  primer,  who  betides  to  sit  there- 
under !  But,  above  all  things,  have  good  care  to  exercise  this 
art,  before  the  master  strides  up  to  his  desk,  in  the  early  gray 
of  the  morning. 

Other  customs,  no  less  worthy,  abide  in  the  school  of  Blun- 
dell,  such  as  the  singeinoj  of  nightcaps ;  but  though  they  have 
a  pleasant  savor,  and  refreshing  to  think  of,  I  may  not  stop  to 
note  them,  unless  it  be  that  goodly  one  at  the  incoming  of  a 
flood.  The  school-house  stands  beside  a  stream,  not  very  large, 
called  "Lownian,"  which  flows  into  the  broad  river  of  Exe, 
about  a  mile  below.  This  Lowman  stream,  although  it  be  not 
fond  of  brawl  and  violence  (in  the  manner  of  our  Lynn),  yet  is 
wont  to  flood  into  a  mighty  head  of  waters  wheii  the  storms  of 
rain  provoke  it ;  and  most  of  all  when  its  little  co-mate,  called 
the  "  Taunton  brook "  —  where  I  have  plucked  the  very  best 
cresses  that  ever  man  put  salt  on  —  comes  foaming  down  like  a 
great  roan  horse,  and  rears  at  the  leap  of  the  hedge-rows.  Then 
are  the  gray  stone  walls  of  Blundell  on  every  side  encompassed, 
the  vale  is  spread  over  with  looping  waters,  and  it  is  a  hard 
thing  for  the  day-boys  to  get  home  to  their  suppers. 

And  in  that  time,  the  porter,  old  Cop  (so  called  because  he 
hath  copper  boots  to  keep  the  wet  from  his  stomach,  and  a  nose 
of  copper  also,  in  right  of  other  waters),  his  place  it  is  to  stand 
at  the  gate,  attending  to  the  flood-boards  grooved  into  one 
another,  and  so  to  watch  the  torrent's  rise,  and  not  be  washed 
away,  if  it  please  God  he  may  lielp  it.  But  long  ere  the  flood 
hath  attained  this  height,  and  while  it  is  only  waxing,  certain 
boys  of  deputy  will  watch  at  the  stoop  of  the  drain-holes,  and 
be  apt  to  look  outside  the  walls  when  Cop  is  taking  a  cordial. 
And  in  the  very  front  of  the  gate,  just  without  the  archway, 
where  the  ground  is  paved  most  handsomely,  you  may  see  in 
copy-letters  done  a  great  P.  B.  of  white  pebbles.  Now,  it  is 
the  custom  and  the  law  that  when  the  invading  waters,  eithoi- 
fluxing  along  the  wall  from  below  the  road-bi'idge,  or  pouring 
sharply  across  the  meadows  from  a  cut  called  "Owen's  ditch" 
—  and  I  myself  have  seen  it  come  botli  ways  —  u])on  the  very 
instant  when  tlie  wa,xing  element  lips  tliough  it  be  but  a  singU; 
pebble  of  the  founder's  lettei-s,  it  is  in  the  license  of  any  boy, 


LOBNA   DOONE. 


soever  small  and  undoctrined,  to  rush  into  the  great  school- 
rooms, where  a  score  of  masters  sit  heavily,  and  scream  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "P.  B." 

Then,  with  a  yell,  the  boys  leap  up,  or  break  away  from 
their  standing;  they  toss  their  caps  to  the  black-beamed  roof, 
and  haply  the  very  books  after  them ;  and  the  great  boys  vex 
no  more  the  small  ones,  and  the  small  boys  stick  up  to  the 
great  ones.  One  with  another,  hard  they  go,  to  see  the  gain 
of  the  waters,  and  the  tribulation  of  Cop,  and  are  prone  to  kick 
the  day-boys  out,  with  words  of  scanty  compliment.  Then  the 
masters  look  at  one  another,  having  no  class  to  look  to,  and 
(boys  being  no  more  left  to  watch)  in  a  manner  they  put  their 
mouths  up.  With  a  spirited  bang  they  close  their  books, 
and  make  invitation  the  one  to  the  other  for  pipes  and  foreign 
cordials,  recommending  the  chance  of  the  time,  and  the  comfort 
away  from  cold  water. 

But,  lo !  I  am  dwelling  on  little  things  and  the  pigeons'  eggs 
of  infancy,  forgetting  the  bitter  and  heavy  life  gone  over  me 
since  then.  If  I  am  neither  a  hard  man  nor  a  very  close  one, 
God  knows  I  have  had  no  lack  of  rubbing  and  pounding,  to 
make  stone  of  me.  Yet  can  I  not  somehow  believe  that  we 
ought  to  hate  one  another,  to  live  far  asunder,  and  block  the 
mouth  each  of  his  little  den;  as  do  the  wild  beasts  of  the  wood, 
and  the  hairy  outangs  now  brought  over,  each  with  a  chain 
upon  him.  Let  that  matter  be  as  it  will.  It  is  beyond  me  to 
unfold,  and  mayhap  of  my  grandson's  grandson.  All  I  know 
is  that  wheat  is  better  than  when  I  began  to  sow  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN   IMPORTANT   ITEM. 

Now  the  cause  of  my  leaving  Tiverton  school,  and  the  way 
of  it,  were  as  follows.  On  the  29th  day  of  November,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  1673,  the  very  day  when  I  was  twelve  years 
old,  and  had  spent  all  my  substance  in  sweetmeats,  with  which 
I  made  treat  to  the  little  boys,  till  the  large  boys  ran  in  and 
took  them,  we  came  out  of  school  at  five  o'clock,  as  the  rule  is 
upon  Tuesdays.  According  to  custom,  we  drove  the  day-boys 
ni  brave  rout  down  the  causeway,  from  the  school-porch  even 
to  the  gate  where  Cop  has  his  dwelling  and  duty.  Little  it 
recked  us  and  helped  them  less,  that  they  were  our  founder's 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  5 

citizens,  and  haply  his  own  grand-nephews  (for  he  left  no  direct 
descendants),  neither  did  we  much  inquire  what  their  lineage 
was.  For  it  had  long  been  fixed  among  us,  who  were  of  the 
house  and  chambers,  that  these  same  day-boys  were  all 
"  caddes, "  as  we  had  discovered  to  call  it,  because  they  paid  no 
groat  for  their  schooling,  and  brought  their  own  commons  with 
them.  In  consumption  of  these  we  would  help  them,  for  our 
fare  in  hall  fed  appetite;  and  while  we  ate  their  victuals  we 
allowed  them  freely  to  talk  to  us.  Nevertheless,  we  could 
not  feel,  when  all  the  victuals  were  gone,  but  that  these  boys 
required  kicking  from  the  premises  of  Blundell.  And  some  of 
them  were  shop-keepers'  sons,  young  grocers,  fellmongers,  and 
poulterers,  and  these,  to  their  credit,  seemed  to  know  how  right- 
eous it  was  to  kick  them.  But  others  were  of  high  family,  as 
any  need  be,  in  Devon  —  Carews,  and  Bouehiers,  and  Bastards, 
and  some  of  these  would  turn  sometimes,  and  strike  the  boy 
that  kicked  them.  But  to  do  them  justice,  even  these  knew 
that  they  must  be  kicked  for  not  paying. 

After  these  "  charity -boys  "  were  gone,  as  in  contumely  we 
called  them  —  "If  you  break  my  bag  on  my  head,"  said  one, 
"  whence  will  you  dine,  to-morrow?  "  —  and  after  old  Cop  with 
clang  of  iron  had  jammed  the  double  gates  in  under  the  scruff- 
stone  archway,  whereupon  are  Latin  verses,  done  in  brass  of 
small  quality,  some  of  us  who  were  not  hungry,  and  cared  not 
for  the  supper-bell,  having  sucked  much  parliament  and  dum])S 
at  my  only  charges  —  not  that  I  ever  bore  much  wealth,  but 
because  I  had  been  thrifting  it  for  this  time  of  my  birth, — we 
were  leaning  quite  at  dusk  against  the  iron  bars  of  the  gate, 
some  six,  or  it  may  be  seven  of  us,  small  boys  all,  and  not 
conspicuous  in  the  closing  of  the  daylight  and  the  fog  that  came 
at  eventide,  else  Cop  would  have  rated  us  up  the  green,  for  he 
was  churly  to  little  boys  when  his  wife  had  taken  their  money. 
There  was  plenty  of  room  for  all  of  us,  for  the  gate  will  hold 
nine  boys  close-packed,  unless  they  be  fed  rankly,  whereof  is 
little  danger;  and  now  we  were  looking  out  on  the  road  and 
wishing  we  could  get  there;  hoping,  moreover,  to  see  a  good 
string  of  pack-horses  come  by,  with  troopers  to  protect  them. 
For  the  day-boys  had  brought  us  word  that  some  intending 
their  way  to  the  town  liad  lain  that  morning  at  Sampford 
Peveril,  and  must  be  in  ere  nightfall,  because  Mr.  Faggus  was 
after  tlunn.  Now  Mr.  Faggus  was  my  first  cousin,  and  an  lionoi- 
to  the  family,  being  a  Nortlimolton  man,  of  great  renown  on 
the  highway,  from  Barum  town  even  to  London.  Therefore, 
of  course,  I  hoped  that  he  would  catch  the  packmen,  and  tlie 
boys  were  asking  my  ojtinion,  as  of  an  oracle,  about  it. 


6  LOBNA  DOONE. 

A  certain  boy  leaning  up  against  me  would  not  allow  my 
elbow  room,  and  struck  me  very  sadly  in  the  stomach  part, 
though  his  own  was  full  of  my  parliament.  And  this  I  felt  so 
unkindly,  that  I  smote  him  straightway  in  the  face  without 
tarrying  to  consider  it,  or  weighing  the  question  duly.  Upon 
this  he  put  his  head  down,  and  presented  it  so  vehemently  at 
the  middle  of  my  waistcoat,  that  for  a  minute  or  more  my  breath 
seemed  dropped,  as  it  were,  from  my  pockets,  and  my  life 
seemed  to  stop  from  great  want  of  ease.  Before  I  came  to 
myself  again,  it  had  been  settled  for  us  that  we  should  move 
to  the  "  Ironing-box, "  as  the  triangle  of  turf  is  called,  where 
the  two  causeways  coming  from  the  school-porch  and  the  hall- 
porch  meet,  and  our  fights  are  mainly  celebrated ;  only  we  must 
wait  until  the  convoy  of  horses  had  passed,  and  then  make  a 
ring  by  candlelight,  and  the  other  boys  would  like  it.  But  sud- 
denly there  came  round  the  post  where  the  letters  of  our 
founder  are,  not  from  the  way  of  Taunton,  but  from  the  side  of 
Lowman  bridge,  a  very  small  string  of  horses,  only  two  indeed 
(counting  for  one  the  pony),  and  a  red-faced  man  on  the  bigger 
nag. 

"Plaise  ye,  worshipful  masters,"  he  said,  being  feared  of  the 
gateway,  "earn  'e  tull  whur  our  Jan  Ridd  be?" 

"  Hyur  a  be,  ees  fai,  Jan  Ridd,"  answered  a  sharp  little  chap, 
making  game  of  John  Fry',^  language. 

"Zhow  un  up,  then,"  says  John  Fry,  poking  his  whip 
through  the  bars  at  us;  ''Zhow  un  up,  and  put  tun  aowt." 

The  other  little  chaps  pointed  at  me,  and  some  began  to 
holla;  but  I  knew  what  I  was  about. 

"Oh,  John,  John,"  I  cried;  "what's  the  use  of  your  coming 
now,  and  Peggy  over  the  moors,  too,  and  it  is  so  cruel  cold  for 
her?  The  holidays  don't  begin  till  Wednesday  fortnight,  John. 
To  think  of  your  not  knowing  that !  " 

John  Fry  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle,  and  turned  his  eyes 
away  from  me ;  and  then  there  was  a  noise  in  his  throat,  like  a 
snail  crawling  on  a  window-pane. 

"  Oh,  us  knaws  that  wull  enough,  Maister  Jan ;  reckon  every 
Oare-man  knaw  that,  without  go  to  skoo-ull,  like  you  doth. 
Your  moother  have  kept  arl  the  apples  up,  and  old  Betty  toorned 
the  black  puddens,  and  none  dare  set  trap  for  a  blagbird.  Arl 
for  thee,  lad ;  every  bit  of  it  now  for  thee !  " 

He  checked  himself  suddenly,  and  frightened  me.  I  knew 
that  John  Fry's  way  so  well. 

"  And  father,  and  father  —  oh,  how  is  father?  "  I  pushed  the 
boys  right  and  left  as  I  said  it.     "John,  is  father  up  in  town! 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  7 

He  always  used  to  come  for  me,  and  leave  nobody  else  to 
do  it." 

"Vayther'll  be  at  the  crooked  post,  t'other  side  o'  telling- 
house.^  Her  coodn't  lave  'ouze  by  raison  of  the  Christmas 
bakkon  comiu'  on,  and  zome  o'  the  cider  welted." 

He  looked  at  the  nag's  ears  as  he  said  it ;  and,  being  up  to 
John  Fry's  ways,  I  knew  that  it  was  a  lie.  And  my  heart 
fell,  like  a  lump  of  lead,  and  I  leaned  back  on  the  stay  of  the 
gate,  and  longed  no  more  to  fight  anybody.  A  sort  of  dull 
power  hung  over  me,  like  the  cloud  of  a  brooding  tempest,  and 
I  feared  to  be  told  anything.  I  did  not  even  care  to  stroke  the 
nose  of  my  pony  Peggy,  although  she  pushed  it  in  through  the 
rails,  where  a  square  of  broader  lattice  is,  and  sniffed  at  me, 
and  began  to  crop  gently  after  my  fingers.  But  whatever  lives 
or  dies,  business  must  be  attended  to;  and  the  principal  busi- 
ness of  good  Christians  is,  beyond  all  controversy,  to  fight  with 
one  another. 

"  Come  up,  Jack,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  lifting  me  under  the 
chin;  "he  hit  you,  and  you  hit  him,  you  know." 

"Pay  your  debts  before  you  go,"  said  a  monitor,  striding  up 
to  me,  after  hearing  how  the  honor  lay ;  "  Kidd,  you  must  go 
through  with  it." 

"Fight,  for  the  sake  of  the  junior  first,"  cried  the  little  fel- 
low in  my  ear,  the  clever  one,  the  head  of  our  class,  who  had 
mocked  John  Fry,  and  knew  all  about  the  aorists,  and  tried  to 
make  me  know  it ;  but  I  never  went  more  than  three  places  up, 
and  then  it  was  an  accident,  and  I  came  down  after  dinner. 
The  boys  were  urgent  round  me  to  fight,  though  my  stomach 
was  not  up  for  it;  and  being  very  slow  of  wit  (which  is  not 
chargeable  on  me),  I  looked  from  one  to  other  of  them,  seek- 
ing any  cure  for  it.  Not  that  I  was  afraid  of  fighting,  for  now 
I  had  been  three  years  at  Blundell's,  and  foughten,  all  that 
time,  a  fight  at  least  once  every  week,  till  the  boys  began  to 
know  me ;  only  that  the  load  on  my  heart  was  not  sprightly  as 
of  the  hay -field.  It  is  a  very  sad  thing  to  dwell  on;  but  even 
now,  in  my  time  of  wisdom,  I  doubt  it  is  a  fond  thing  to  imag- 
ine, and  a  motherly  to  insist  upon,  that  boys  can  do  without 
fighting.  Unless  they  be  very  good  boys,  and  afraid  of  one 
another. 


of 


"Nay,"  I  said,  with  my  back  against  the  wrought-iron  stay 
the  gate,  which  was  socketed  into  Cop's  house-front;  "I 


1  The  "  telling-houses  "  on  the  moor  are  rude  cots  where  the  shepherds 
meet,  to  "  tell "  their  sheep  at  the  end  of  the  pasturing  season. 


8  LORNA   DOONE. 

will  not  fight  thee  now,  Robin  Snell,  but  wait  till  I  come  back 
again." 

"Take  coward's  blow,  Jack  Ridd,  then,"  cried  half-a-dozen 
little  boys,  shoving  Bob  Snell  forward  to  do  it;  because  they 
all  knew  well  enough,  having  striven  with  me  ere  now,  and 
proved  me  to  be  their  master,  —  they  knew,  I  say,  that  without 
great  change,  I  would  never  accept  that  contumely.  But  I  took 
little  heed  of  them,  looking  in  dull  wonderment  at  John  Fry, 
and  Smiler,  and  the  blunderbuss,  and  Peggy.  John  Fry  was 
scratching  his  head,  I  could  see,  and  getting  blue  in  the  face, 
by  the  light  from  Cop's  parlor-window,  and  going  to  and  fro 
upon  Smiler,  as  if  he  were  hard  set  with  it.  And  all  the  time 
he  was  looking  briskly  from  my  eyes  to  the  fist  I  was  clench- 
ing, and  methought  he  tried  to  wink  at  me  in  a  covert  manner; 
and  then  Peggy  whisked  her  tail. 

"Shall  I  fight,  John?"  I  said  at  last;  "I  would  an  you  had 
not  come,  John." 

"Chraist's  will  be  done;  I  zim  thee  had  better  faight,  Jan," 
he  answered,  in  a  whisper,  through  the  gridiron  of  the  gate; 
"there  be  a  dale  of  faighting  avore  thee.  Best  wai  to  begin 
guide  taime  laike.  Wull  the  geatman  latt  me  in,  to  zee  as 
thee  hast  vair  plai,  lad?" 

He  looked  doubtfully  down  at  the  color  of  his  cowskin  boots, 
and  the  mire  upon  the  horses,  for  the  sloughs  were  exceeding 
mucky.  Peggy,  indeed,  my  sorrel  pony,  being  lighter  of 
weight,  was  not  crusted  much  over  the  shoulders ;  but  Smiler 
(our  youngest  sledder)  had  been  well  in  over  his  withers,  and 
none  would  have  deemed  him  a  piebald,  save  of  red  mire  and 
black  mire.  The  great  blunderbuss,  moreover,  was  choked  with 
a  dollop  of  slough-cake;  and  John  Fry's  sad-colored  Sunday 
hat  was  indued  with  a  plume  of  marish-weed.  All  this  I  saw 
while  he  was  dismounting,  heavily  and  wearily,  lifting  his  leg 
from  the  saddle-cloth,  as  if  with  a  sore  crick  in  his  back. 

By  this  time  the  question  of  fighting  was  gone  quite  out  of 
our  own  discretion;  for  sundry  of  the  elder  boys,  grave  and 
reverend  signors,  who  had  taken  no  small  pleasure  in  teaching 
our  hands  to  fight,  to  ward,  to  parry,  to  feign  and  counter,  to 
lunge  in  the  manner  of  sword-play,  and  the  weaker  child  to 
drop  on  one  knee,  when  no  cunning  of  fence  might  baffle  the 
onset  —  these  great  masters  of  the  art,  who  would  far  liefer 
see  us  little  ones  practise  it,  than  themselves  engage,  six  or 
seven  of  them  came  running  down  the  rounded  causeway,  hav- 
ing heard  that  there  had  arisen  "  a  snug  little  mill "  at  the 
gate.     Now  whether  that  word  hath  origin  in  a  Greek  term 


AN  IMPOETA^'T  ITEM.  9 

meaning  a  conflict,  as  the  best-read  boys  asseverated,  or  whether 
it  is  nothing  more  than  a  figure  of  similitude,  from  the  beating 
arms  of  a  mill,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  ct)unties  where  are  no 
waterbrooks,  but  folk  made  bread  with  wind  —  it  is  not  for  a 
man  devoid  of  scholarship  to  determine.  Enough  that  they 
who  made  the  ring  intituled  the  scene  a  "mill,"  while  we  who 
must  be  thumped  inside  it  tried  to  rejoice  in  their  pleasantry, 
till  it  turned  upon  the  stomach. 

Moreover,  I  felt  upon  me  now  a  certain  responsibility,  a 
dutiful  need  to  maintain,  in  the  presence  of  John  Fry,  the 
manliness  of  the  liidd  family,  and  the  honor  of  Exmoor. 
Hitherto  none  had  worsted  me,  althougli  in  the  three  years  of 
my  schooling  I  had  fought  more  than  threescore  battles,  and 
bedewed  with  blood  every  plant  of  grass  towards  the  middle  of 
the  Ironing-box.  And  this  success  I  owed  at  first  to  no  skill 
of  my  own,  until  I  came  to  know  better ;  for  up  to  twenty  or 
thirty  fights,  I  struck  as  nature  guided  me,  no  wiser  than  a 
father-long-legs  in  the  heat  of  a  lanthorn ;  but  I  had  conquered, 
partly  through  my  native  strength  and  the  Exmoor  toughness 
in  me,  and  still  more  that  I  could  not  see  when  I  had  gotten 
my  bellyful.  But  now  I  was  like  to  have  that  and  more;  for 
my  heart  was  down,  to  begin  with;  and  then  Eobert  Snell  was 
a  bigger  boy  than  I  had  ever  encountered,  and  as  thick  in  the 
skull,  and  hard  in  the  brain,  as  even  I  could  claim  to  be. 

I  had  never  told  my  mother  a  word  about  these  frequent 
strivings,  because  she  was  soft-hearted;  neither  had  I  told  my 
father,  because  he  might  have  beaten  me.  Therefore,  behold- 
ing me  still  an  innocent-looking  child,  with  fair  curls  on  my 
forehead,  and  no  store  of  bad  language,  John  Fry  thought  this 
was  the  very  first  fight  that  ever  had  befallen  me ;  and  so  when 
they  let  him  in  at  the  gate  "  with  a  message  to  the  head- 
master," as  one  of  the  monitors  told  Cop,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler 
were  tied  to  the  railings,  till  I  should  be  through  my  business, 
John  comes  up  to  me  with  the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  says, 
"  Doon't  thee  goo  for  to  do  it,  Ja,u;  doon't  thee  doo  it,  for  gude 
now."  But  I  told  him  that  now  it  was  much  too  late  to  cry 
off;  so  he  said,  "The  Lord  be  with  thee,  Jan,  and  turn  thy 
thumb-knuckle  inwards." 

It  is  not  a  very  large  piece  of  ground  in  the  angle  of  the 
causeways,  but  quite  big  enough  to  fight  upon,  especially  for 
Christians,  who  love  to  be  cheek  by  jowl  at  it.  The  great  boys 
stood  in  a  circle  around,  being  gifted  witli  strong  privilege,  and 
the  little  boys  had  leave  to  lie  flat,  and  look  through  the  legs 
of  the  great  boys.     But  while  we  were  yet  preparing,  and  the 


10  LORNA   BOONE. 

candles  hissed  in  the  fog-cloud,  old  Phoebe,  of  more  than  four- 
score years,  whose  room  was  over  the  hall-porch,  came  hobbling 
out,  as  she  always  did,  to  mar  the  joy  of  the  conflict.  No  one 
ever  heeded  her,  neither  did  she  expect  it;  but  the  evil  was 
that  two  senior  boys  must  always  lose  the  first  round  of  the 
fight,  by  having  to  lead  hcT  home  again. 

I  marvel  how  Kobin  Snell  felt.  Very  likely  he  thought 
nothing  of  it,  always  having  been  a  boy  of  an  hectoring  and 
unruly  sort.  But  I  felt  my  heart  go  up  and  down,  as  the  boys 
came  round  to  strip  me;  and  greatly  fearing  to  be  beaten,  I 
blew  hot  upon  my  knuckles.  Then  pulled  I  off  my  little  cut 
jerkin,  and  laid  it  down  on  my  head  cap,  and  over  that  my 
waistcoat ;  and  a  boy  was  proud  to  take  care  of  them,  Thomas 
Hooper  was  his  name,  and  I  remember  how  he  looked  at  me. 
My  mother  had  made  that  little  cut  jerkin,  in  the  quiet  winter 
evenings,  and  taken  pride  to  loop  it  up  in  a  fashionable  way, 
and  I  was  loth  to  soil  it  with  blood,  and  good  filberds  were  in 
the  pocket.  Then  up  to  me  came  Kobin  Snell  (mayor  of 
Exeter  thrice  since  that),  and  he  stood  very  square,  and  looked 
at  me,  and  I  lacked  not  long  to  look  at  him.  Round  his  waist 
he  had  a  kerchief,  busking  up  his  small-clothes,  and  on  his  feet 
light  pumpkin  shoes,  and  all  his  upper  raiment  off.  And  he 
danced  about,  in  a  way  that  made  my  head  swim  on  my  shoul- 
ders, and  he  stood  some  inches  over  me.  But  I,  being  muddled 
with  much  doubt  about  John  Fry  and  his  errand,  was  only 
stripped  of  my  jerkin  and  waistcoat,  and  not  comfortable  to 
begin. 

"Come  now,  shake  hands,"  cried  a  big  boy,  jumping  in  joy 
of  the  spectacle,  a  third-former  nearly  six  feet  high;  "shake 
hands,  you  little  devils.  Keep  your  pluck  up,  and  show  good 
sport,  and  Lord  love  the  better  man  of  you." 

Robin  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  gazed  at  me  disdainfully, 
and  then  smote  me  painfully  in  the  face,  ere  I  could  get  my 
fence  up. 

"Whutt  be  'bout,  lad?"  cried  John  Fry ;  "hutt  un  again, 
Jan,  wull  'e?    Well  done  then,  our  Jan  boy." 

For  I  had  replied  to  Robin  now  with  all  the  weight  and 
cadence  of  penthemimeral  coesura  (a  thing,  the  name  of  which 
I  know,  but  could  never  make  head  nor  tail  of  it),  and  the 
strife  began  in  a  serious  style,  and  the  boys  looking  on  were 
not  cheated.  Although  I  could  not  collect  their  shouts  when 
the  blows  were  ringing  upon  me,  it  was  no  great  loss ;  for  John 
Fry  told  me  afterwards  that  their  oaths  went  up  like  a  furnace 
fire.     But  to  these  we  paid  no  heed  or  hap,  being  in  the  thick 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  11 

of  swinging,  and  devoid  of  judgment.  All  I  know  is,  I  came 
to  my  corner,  when  the  round  was  over,  with  very  hard  pumps 
in  my  chest,  and  a  great  desire  to  fall  away. 

"Time  is  up,"  cried  head-monitor,  ere  ever  I  got  my  breath 
again;  and  when  I  fain  would  have  lingered  awhile  on  the 
knee  of  the  boy  that  held  me.  John  Fry  had  come  up,  and  the 
boys  were  laughing  because  he  wanted  a  stable  lanthorn,  and 
threatened  to  tell  my  mother. 

"Time  is  up,"  cried  another  boy,  more  headlong  than  head- 
monitor.  "  If  we  count  three  before  the  come  of  thee,  thwacked 
thou  art,  and  must  go  to  the  women."  I  felt  it  hard  upon  me. 
He  began  to  count,  one,  two,  three  —  but  before  the  "  three  " 
was  out  of  his  mouth,  I  was  facing  my  foe,  with  both  hands 
up,  and  my  breath  going  rough  and  hot,  and  resolved  to  wait 
the  turn  of  it.  For  I  had  found  seat  on  the  knee  of  a  boy, 
sage  and  skilled  to  tutor  me,  who  knew  how  much  the  end  very 
often  differs  from  the  beginning.  A  rare  ripe  scholar  he  was ; 
and  now  he  hath  routed  up  the  Germans  in  the  matter  of  criti- 
cism. Sure  the  clever  boys  and  men  have  most  love  towards 
the  stupid  ones. 

"Finish  him  off,  Bob,"  cried  a  big  boy,  and  that  I  noticed 
especially,  because  I  thought  it  unkind  of  him,  after  eating  of 
my  toffee  as  he  had  that  afternoon;  "finish  liim  off,  neck  and 
crop;  he  deserves  it  for  sticking  up  to  a  man  like  you." 

But  I  was  not  so  to  be  finished  off,  though  feeling  in  my 
knuckles  now  as  if  it  were  a  blueness  and  a  sense  of  chilblain. 
Nothing  held  except  my  legs,  and  they  were  good  to  help  me. 
So  this  bout,  or  round,  if  you  please,  was  foughten  warily  by 
me,  with  gentle  recollection  of  what  my  tutor,  the  clever  boy, 
had  told  me,  and  some  resolve  to  earn  his  praise  before  I  came 
back  to  his  knee  again.  And  never,  I  think,  in  all  my  life, 
sounded  sweeter  words  in  my  ears  (except  when  my  love  loved 
me)  than  when  my  second  and  backer,  who  had  made  liimself 
part  of  my  doings  now,  and  would  have  wept  to  see  me  beaten, 
said  — 

"Famously  done.  Jack,  famously!  Oidy  keep  your  wind 
up,  Jack,  and  you'll  go  riglit  through  him!  " 

Meanwhile  John  Fry  was  prowling  about,  asking  the  boys 
what  they  thouglit  of  it,  and  whether  I  was  like  to  be  killed, 
because  of  my  mother's  trouljlc.  liut  finding  now  tliat  I  had 
foughten  threescore  fights  already,  he  came  up  to  me  woefully, 
in  the  quickness  of  my  breathing,  while  I  sat  on  tlie  knee  of 
my  second,  with  a  piece  of  spongious  coralline  to  ease  me  of 
my  bloodshed,  and  he  says  in  my  ears,  as  if  he  was  clapping 
spurs  into  a  horse  — 


12  LORNA  DOONE. 

"Never  thee  knack  under,  Jan,  or  never  coom  naigli  Hex- 
moor  no  more." 

With  that  it  was  all  up  with  me.  A  simmering  buzzed  in 
my  heavy  brain,  and  a  light  came  througli  my  eye-places.  At 
once  I  set  both  fists  again,  and  my  heart  stuck  to  me  like  cob- 
bler's wax.  Either  Kobin  Snell  should  kill  me,  or  I  would 
conqvier  Robin  Snell.  So  I  went  in  again,  with  my  courage  up; 
and  Bob  came  smiling  for  victory,  and  I  hated  him  for  smiling. 
He  let  at  me  with  his  left  hand,  and  I  gave  him  my  right 
between  his  eyes,  and  he  blinked,  and  was  not  pleased  with  it. 
I  feared  him  not,  and  spared  him  not,  neither  spared  myself. 
My  breath  came  again,  and  my  heart  stood  cool,  and  my  eyes 
struck  fire  no  longer.  Only  I  knew  that  I  would  die,  sooner 
than  shame  my  birthplace.  How  the  rest  of  it  was  I  know 
not ;  only  that  I  had  the  end  of  it,  and  helped  to  put  Robin 
in  bed. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   WAR-PATH    OF    THE   DOONES. 

From  Tiverton  town  to  the  town  of  Oare  is  a  very  long  and 
painful  road,  and  in  good  truth  the  traveller  must  make  his  way, 
as  the  saying  is ;  for  the  way  is  still  unmade,  at  least,  on  this 
side  of  Dulverton,  although  there  is  less  danger  now  than  in 
the  time  of  my  schooling;  for  now  a  good  horse  may  go  there 
without  much  cost  of  leaping ;  but  when  I  was  a  boy,  the  spurs 
would  fail,  when  needed  most,  by  reason  of  the  slough-cake. 
It  is  to  the  credit  of  this  age,  and  our  advance  upon  fatherly 
ways,  that  now  we  have  laid  down  rods  and  fagots,  and  even 
stump-oaks  here  and  there,  so  that  a  man  in  good  daylight 
need  not  sink,  if  he  be  quite  sober.  There  is  nothing  I  have 
striven  at  more  than  doing  my  duty,  way-warden  over  Exmoor. 

But  in  those  days,  when  I  came  from  school  (and  good  times 
they  were,  too,  full  of  a  warmth  and  fine  hearth-comfort,  which 
now  are  dying  out),  it  was  a  sad  and  sorry  business  to  find 
where  lay  the  highway.  We  are  taking  now  to  mark  it  off 
with  a  fence  on  either  side,  at  least,  when  a  town  is  handy; 
but  to  me  this  seems  of  a  high  pretence,  and  a  sort  of  land- 
mark and  channel  for  robbers,  though  well  enough  near  Loil- 
don,  where  they  have  earned  a  race-course. 

We  left  the  town  of  the  two  fords,  which  they  say  is  the 


THE   WAR-PATH  OF  THE  DOONES.  13 

meaning  of  it,  very  early  in  the  morning,  after  l}' ing  one  day 
to  rest,  as  was  demanded  by  the  nags,  sore  of  foot  and  foun- 
dered. For  my  part,  too,  I  was  glad  to  rest,  having  aches  all 
over  me,  and  very  heavy  bruises ;  and  we  lodged  at  the  sign  of 
the  White  Horse  Inn,  in  the  street  called  Gold  Street,  opposite 
where  the  souls  are  of  John  and  Joan  Greenway,  set  up  in  gold 
letters,  because  we  must  take  the  homeward  way  at  cockcrow 
of  the  morning.  Though  still  John  Fry  was  dry  with  me  of 
the  reason  of  his  coming,  and  only  told  lies  about  father,  and 
could  not  keep  them  agreeable,  I  hoped  for  the  best,  as  all 
boys  will,  especially  after  a  victory.  And  I  thought,  perhaps 
father  had  sent  for  me,  because  he  had  a  good  harvest,  and 
the  rats  were  bad  in  the  corn-chamber. 

It  was  high  noon  before  we  were  got  to  Dulverton  that  day, 
near  to  which  town  the  river  Exe  and  its  big  brother  Barle 
have  union.  My  mother  had  an  uncle  living  there,  but  we 
were  not  to  visit  his  house  this  time,  at  which  I  was  somewhat 
astonished,  since  we  needs  must  stop  for  at  least  two  hours, 
to  bait  our  horses  thorough  well,  before  coming  to  the  black 
bogway.  The  bogs  are  very  good  in  frost,  except  where  the 
hot-springs  rise;  but  as  yet  there  had  been  no  frost  this  year, 
save  just  enough  to  make  the  blackbirds  look  big  in  the  morn- 
ing. In  a  hearty  black-frost  they  look  small,  until  the  snow 
falls  over  them. 

The  road  from  Bampton  to  Dulverton  had  not  been  very 
delicate,  yet  nothing  to  complain  of  much  —  no  deeper,  indeed, 
than  the  hocks  of  a  horse,  except  in  the  rotten  places.  The 
day  was  inclined  to  be  mild  and  foggy,  and  both  nags  sweated 
freely;  but  Peggy  carrying  little  weight  (for  my  wardrobe  was 
upon  Smiler,  and  John  Fry  grumbling  always),  we  could  easily 
keep  in  front,  as  far  as  you  may  hear  a  laugh. 

John  had  been  rather  bitter  with  me,  which  methought  was 
a  mark  of  ill-taste  at  coming  home  for  the  holidays ;  and  yet 
I  made  allowance  for  John,  because  he  had  never  been  at 
school,  and  never  would  have  chance  to  eat  fry  upon  condition 
of  sj)elling  it;  therefore  I  rode  on,  thinking  that  he  was  hard- 
set,  like  a  saw,  for  his  dinner,  and  Avould  soften  after  tooth- 
work.  And  yet  at  his  most  hungry  times,  when  his  mind  was 
far  gone  upon  bacon,  certes  he  seemed  to  check  himself  and 
look  at  me  as  if  he  wen;  sorry  for  little  things  coming  over 
great. 

But  now,  at  Dulverton,  we  dined  upon  the  rarest  and  choicest 
victuals  that  ever  J  did  taste.  Ev^en,  now,  at  my  time  of  life, 
to  think  of  it  gives  me  ai^petite,  as  once  and  awhile  to  think 


14  LORNA   BOONE. 

of  my  first  love  makes  me  love  all  goodness.  Hot  mutton 
pasty  was  a  thing  I  liad  often  heard  of  from  very  wealthy  boys 
and  men,  who  made  a  dessert  of  dinner ;  and  to  hear  them  talk 
of  it  made  my  lips  smack,  and  my  ribs  come  inwards. 

And  now  John  Fry  strode  into  the  hostel,  with  the  air  and 
grace  of  a  short-legged  man,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  if  he  was 
calling  sheep  upon  Exmoor  — 

"  Hot  mootton  pasty  for  twoo  trarv'lers,  at  number  vaive,  in 
vaive  minnits !  Dish  un  up  in  the  tin  with  the  grahvy,  zame 
as  I  hardered  last  Tuesday." 

Of  course  it  did  not  come  in  five  minutes,  nor  yet  in  ten  or 
twenty;  but  that  made  it  all  the  better  when  it  came  to  the 
real  presence;  and  the  smell  of  it  was  enough  to  make  an 
empty  man  thank  God  for  the  room  there  was  inside  him. 
Fifty  years  have  passed  me  quicker  than  the  taste  of  that 
gravy. 

It  is  the  manner  of  all  good  boys  to  be  careless  of  apparel, 
and  take  no  pride  in  adornment.  Good  lack,  if  I  see  a  boy 
make  todo  about  the  fit  of  his  crumpler,  and  the  creasing  of 
his  breeches,  and  desire  to  be  shod  for  comeliness  rather  than 
for  use,  I  cannot  'scape  the  mark  that  God  took  thought  to 
make  a  girl  of  him.  Not  so  when  they  grow  older,  and  court 
the  regard  of  the  maidens;  then  may  the  bravery  pass  from 
the  inside  to  the  outside  of  them ;  and  no  bigger  fools  are  they, 
even  then,  than  their  fathers  were  before  them.  But  God  for- 
bid any  man  to  be  a  fool  to  love,  and  be  loved,  as  I  have  been. 
Else  would  he  have  prevented  it. 

When  the  mutton  pasty  was  done,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler 
had  dined  well  also,  out  I  went  to  wash  at  the  pump,  being  a 
lover  of  soap  and  water,  at  all  risk,  except  of  my  dinner.  And 
John  Fry,  who  cared  very  little  to  wash,  save  Sabbath  days  in 
his  own  soap,  and  who  had  kept  me  from  the  pump  by  threat- 
ening loss  of  the  dish,  out  he  came  in  a  satisfied  manner,  with 
a  piece  of  quill  in  his  hand,  to  lean  against  a  door-post,  and 
listen  to  the  horses  feeding,  and  have  his  teeth  ready  for 
supper. 

Then  a  lady's-maid  came  out,  and  the  sun  was  on  her  face, 
and  she  turned  round  to  go  back  again ;  but  put  a  better  face 
upon  it,  and  gave  a  trip  and  liitched  her  dress,  and  looked  at 
the  sun  full  body,  lest  the  hostlers  should  laugh  that  she  was 
losing  her  complexion.  With  a  long  Italian  glass  in  her  fingers 
very  daintily,  she  came  up  to  the  pump  in  the  middle  of  the 
yard,  where  I  was  running  the  water  off  all  my  head  and  shoul- 
ders, and  arms,  and  some  of  my  breast  even,  and  though  I  had 


I     I'U.'APKU     fOk     HER     VKRY     HKAHTILY."  —  Vol       I.     p.     15. 


THE    WAR-rATn  OF  THE  DOO^fES.  15 

glimpsed  her  through  the  sprinkle,  it  gave  me  quite  a  turn  to 
see  her,  child  as  I  was,  in  my  open  aspect.  But  she  looked  at 
me,  no  whit  abashed,  making  a  baby  of  me,  no  doubt,  as  a 
woman  of  thirty  will  do,  even  with  a  very  big  boy  when  they 
catch  him  on  a  hayrick,  and  she  said  to  me,  in  a  brazen  man- 
ner, as  if  I  had  been  nobody,  while  I  was  shrinking  behind 
the  pump,  and  craving  to  get  my  shirt  on,  —  "  Good  leetle  boy, 
come  hither  to  me.  Fine  lieaven!  how  blue  your  eyes  are,  and 
your  skin  like  snow;  but  some  naughty  man  has  beaten  it 
black.  Oh,  leetle  boy,  let  me  feel  it.  Ah,  how  then  it  must 
have  hurt  you!     There  now,  and  you  shall  love  me." 

All  this  time  she  Avas  touching  my  breast,  here  and  there, 
very  lightly,  with  her  delicate  brown  fingers,  and  I  understood 
from  her  voice  and  manner  that  she  was  not  of  this  country, 
but  a  foreigner  by  extraction.  And  then  I  was  not  so  shy  of 
her,  because  I  could  talk  better  English  than  she;  and  yet  I 
longed  for  my  jerkin,  but  liked  not  to  be  rude  to  her. 

"  If  you  please,  madam,  I  must  go.  John  Fry  is  waiting  by 
the  tapster's  door,  and  Peggy  neighing  to  me.  If  you  please, 
we  must  get  home  to-night ;  and  father  will  be  waiting  for  me 
this  side  of  the  telling-house." 

"  There,  there,  you  shall  go,  leetle  dear,  and  perhaps  I  will 
go  after  you.  I  have  taken  much  love  of  you.  But  the 
Baroness  is  hard  to  me.  How  far  you  call  it  now  to  the  bank 
of  the  sea  at  Wash  —  Wash " 

"At  Watchett,  likely  you  mean,  madam.  Oh,  a  very  long 
way,  and  the  roads  as  soft  as  the  roads  to  Oare." 

"  Oh-ah,  oh-ah,  —  I  shall  remember ;  that  is  the  place  where 
my  leetle  boy  live,  and  some  day  I  will  come  seek  for  him. 
Now  make  the  pump  to  flow,  my  dear,  and  give  me  the  good 
water.  The  Baroness  will  not  touch,  unless  a  nebule  be  formed 
outside  the  glass." 

I  did  not  know  what  she  meant  by  that ;  yet  I  pumped  for 
her  very  heartily,  and  marvelled  to  see  her  for  fifty  times  throw 
the  water  away  in  the  trough,  as  if  it  was  not  good  enough.  At 
last  the  water  suited  her,  with  a  likeness  of  fog  outside  the 
glass,  and  the  gleam  of  a  crystal  under  it,  and  tlien  she  made 
a  courtesy  to  me,  in  a  sort  of  mocking  manner,  holding  the 
long  glass  by  th(>  foot,  not  to  take  the  cloud  off;  and  then  she 
wanted  to  kiss  m(! ;  but  I  was  out  of  breath,  and  have  always 
been  shy  of  that  work,  except  when  I  come  to  offer  it;  and  so 
I  ducked  under  tlu;  pumi)-handlt',  and  she  knocked  her  chin 
on  tlie  knob  of  it;  and  the  hostlers  came  out,  and  asked 
whether  they  would  do  as  well. 


16  LOENA  BOONE. 

Upon  this,  she  retreated  up  the  yard,  with  a  certain  dark 
dignity,  and  a  foreign  way  of  walking,  which  stopped  them  at 
once  from  going  further,  because  it  was  so  different  from  the 
fashion  of  their  sweethearts.  One  with  another  they  hung 
back,  where  half  a  cartload  of  hay  was,  and  they  looked  to  be 
sure  that  she  would  not  turn  round ;  and  then  each  one  laughed 
at  the  rest  of  them. 

Now,  up  to  the  end  of  Dulverton  town,  on  the  northward 
side  of  it,  wliere  the  two  new  pig-sties  be,  the  Oare  folk  and 
the  Watchett  folk  must  trudge  on  together,  until  we  come  to  a 
broken  cross,  where  a  murdered  man  lies  buried.  Peggy  and 
Smiler  went  up  the  hill,  as  if  nothing  could  be  too  much  for 
them,  after  the  beans  they  had  eaten,  and  suddenly  turning  a 
corner  of  trees,  we  happened  upon  a  great  coach  and  six  horses 
laboring  very  heavily.  John  Fry  rode  on  with  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  as  became  him  towards  the  quality ;  but  I  was  amazed  to 
that  degree  that,  I  left  my  cap  on  my  head,  and  drew  bridle 
without  knowing  it. 

For  in  the  front  seat  of  the  coach,  which  was  half-way  open, 
being  of  new  city-make,  and  the  day  in  want  of  air,  sate  the 
foreign  lady,  who  had  met  me  at  the  pump  and  offered  to  salute 
me.  By  her  side  was  a  little  girl,  dark-haired  and  very  won- 
derful, with  a  Avealthy  softness  on  her,  as  if  she  must  have  her 
own  way.  I  could  not  look  at  her  for  two  glances,  and  she 
did  not  look  at  me  for  one,  being  such  a  little  child,  and  busy 
with  the  hedges.  But  in  the  honorable  place  sate  a  handsome 
lady,  very  warmly  dressed,  and  sweetly  delicate  of  color.  And 
close  to  her  was  a  lively  child,  two  or  it  may  be  three  years 
old,  bearing  a  white  cockade  in  his  hat,  and  staring  at  all  and 
everybody.  Now,  he  saw  Peggy,  and  took  such  a  liking  to 
her,  that  the  lady  his  mother  —  if  so  she  were  —  was  forced  to 
look  at  my  pony  and  me.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  although  I 
am  not  of  those  who  adore  the  high  folk,  she  looked  at  us  very 
kindly,  and  with  a  sweetness  rarely  found  in  the  women  who 
milk  the  cows  for  us. 

Then  I  took  off  my  cap  to  the  beautiful  lady,  without  asking 
wherefore;  and  she  put  up  her  hand  and  kissed  it  to  me, 
thinking  perhaps,  that  I  looked  like  a  gentle  and  good  little 
boy ;  for  folk  always  called  me  innocent,  though  God  knows  I 
never  was  that.  But  now  the  foreign  lady,  or  lady's-maid,  as 
it  might  be,  who  had  been  busy  with  little  dark-eyes,  turned 
upon  all  this  going  on,  and  looked  me  straight  in  the  face.  I 
was  about  to  salute  her,  at  a  distance,  indeed,  and  not  with  the 
nicety  she  had  offered  to  me,  but,  strange  to  say,   she  stared 


TEE   WAR-PATH  OF  THE  DOONES.  11 

at  my  eyes  as  if  she  had  never  seen  me  before,  neither  wished 
to  see  me  again.  At  this  I  was  so  startled,  such  things  being 
out  of  my  knowledge,  that  I  startled  Peggy  also  with  the  muscle 
of  my  legs,  and  she  being  fresh  from  stable,  and  the  mire 
scraped  off  w^ith  cask-hoop,  broke  away  so  suddenly  that  I 
could  do  no  more  than  turn  round  and  lower  my  cap,  now  five 
months  old,  to  the  beautiful  lady.  Soon  I  overtook  John  Fry, 
and  asked  him  all  about  them,  and  how  it  was  that  we  had 
missed  their  starting  from  the  hostel.  But  John  would  never 
talk  much  till  after  a  gallon  of  cider ;  and  all  that  I  could  win 
out  of  him  w^as  that  they  were  "murdering  Papishers,"  and 
little  he  cared  to  do  with  them,  or  the  devil  as  they  came  from. 
And  a  good  thing  for  me,  and  a  providence,  that  I  was  gone 
down  Dulverton  town  to  buy  sweetstuff  for  Annie,  else  my 
stupid  head  would  have  gone  astray  with  their  great  out- 
coming. 

We  saw  no  more  of  them  after  that,  but  turned  into  the  side- 
way,  and  soon  had  the  fill  of  our  hands  and  eyes  to  look  to  our 
own  going.  For  the  road  got  worse  and  Avorse,  until  there  was 
none  at  all,  and  perhaps  the  purest  thing  it  could  do  was  to  be 
ashamed  to  show  itself.  But  we  pushed  on  as  best  we  might, 
with  doubt  of  reaching  home  any  time,  except  by  special  grace 
of  God. 

The  fog  came  down  upon  the  moors  as  thick  as  ever  I  saw 
it;  and  there  was  no  sound  of  any  sort,  nor  a  breath  of  wind 
to  guide  us.  The  little  stubby  trees  that  stand  here  and 
there,  like  bushes  with  a  wooden  leg  to  them,  were  drizzled 
with  a  mass  of  wet,  and  hung  their  points  with  dro])ping. 
Wherever  the  butt-end  of  a  hedgerow  came  up  from  tlie  hollow 
ground,  like  the  withers  of  a  horse,  holes  of  splash  were 
pocked  and  pimpled  in  the  yellow  sand  of  coneys,  or  under  the 
dwarf  tree's  ovens.  But  soon  it  was  too  dark  to  see  that,  or 
anything  else,  I  may  say,  except  the  creases  in  the  dusk,  where 
prisoned  light  crept  up  the  valleys. 

After  awhile  even  that  was  gone,  and  no  other  comfort  left 
to  us,  except  to  see  our  horses'  heads  jogging  to  their  foot- 
steps, and  the  dark  ground  pass  below  us,  lighter  where  the 
wet  was;  and  then  the  splash,  foot  after  foot,  more  clever 
than  we  can  do  it,  and  the  orderly  jerk  of  the  tail,  and  the 
smell  of  wliat  a  horse  is. 

John  Fry  was  bowing  forward  with  sleep  ujion  his  saddle, 
and  now  I  could  no  longer  see  the  frizzle  of  wet  upon  liis  beard 
—  for  he  had  a  very  brave  one,  of  a  briglit-red  color,  and 
trimmed  into  a  whale-oil  knot,  because  he  was  newly-married 

VOL.    I.  —  2 


18  LORNA   DOONE. 

—  although  that  comb  of  hair  had  been  a  subject  of  some  won- 
der to  me,  whether  I,  in  God's  good  time,  should  have  the  like 
of  that,  handsomely  set  with  shining  beads,  small  above  and 
large  below,  from  the  weeping  of  the  heaven.  But  still  I  could 
see  the  jog  of  his  hat  —  a  Sunday  hat  with  a  top  to  it  —  and 
some  of  his  shoulder  bowed  out  in  the  mist,  so  that  one  could 
say,  "Hold  up,  John,"  when  Smiler  put  his  foot  in. 

"Mercy  of  God!  Where  be  us  now?"  said  John  Fry,  wak- 
ing suddenly ;  "  us  ought  to  have  passed  hold  hash,  Jan.  Zeen 
it  on  the  road,  have  'ee?" 

"No  indeed,  John;  no  old  ash.  Nor  nothing  else  to  my 
knowing;  nor  heard  nothing,  save  thee  snoring." 

"  Watt  a  vule  thee  must  be  then,  Jan ;  and  me  myzell  no 
better.     Harken,  lad,  harken !  " 

We  drew  our  horses  up  and  listened,  through  the  thick- 
ness of  the  air,  and  with  our  hands  laid  to  our  ears.  At  first 
there  was  nothing  to  hear,  except  the  panting  of  the  horses, 
and  the  trickle  of  the  eaving  drops  from  our  head-covers  and 
clothing,  and  the  soft  sounds  of  the  lonely  night,  that  make  us 
feel,  and  try  not  to  think.  Then  there  came  a  mellow  noise, 
very  low  and  mournsome,  not  a  sound  to  be  afraid  of,  but  to 
long  to  know  the  meaning,  with  a  soft  rise  of  the  hair.  Three 
times  it  came  and  went  again,  as  the  shaking  of  a  thread  might 
pass  away  into  the  distance ;  and  then  I  touched  John  Fry  to 
know  that  there  was  something  near  me. 

"Doon't  'e  be  a  vule,  Jan!  Vaine  moozick  as  iver  I  'eer. 
God  bless  the  man  as  made  un  doo  it." 

"  Have  they  hanged  one  of  the  Doones  then,  John?  " 

"Hush,  lad;  never  talk  laike  o'  thiccy.  Hang  a  Doone! 
God  knoweth,  the  King  would  hang  pretty  quick,  if  her  did." 

"Then  who  is  it  in  the  chains,  John?" 

I  felt  my  spirit  rise  as  I  asked;  for  now  I  had  crossed  Ex- 
moor  so  often  as  to  hope  that  the  people  sometimes  deserved 
it,  and  think  that  it  might  be  a  lesson  to  the  rogues  who 
unjustly  loved  the  mutton  they  were  never  born  to.  But,  of 
course,  they  were  born  to  hanging,  when  they  set  themselves  so 
high. 

"It  be  nawbody,"  said  John,  "  vor  us  to  make  a  fush  about. 
Belong  to  t'other  zide  o'  the  moor,  and  come  staling  shape  to 
our  zide.  Red  Jem  Hannaford  his  name.  Thank  God  for  him 
to  be  hanged,  lad;  and  good  cess  to  his  soul,  for  craikin'  zo." 

So  the  sound  of  the  quiet  swinging  led  us  very  modestly,  as  it 
came  and  went  on  the  wind,  loud  and  low  pretty  regularly,  even 
as  far  as  the  foot  of  the  gibbet  where  the  four  cross-ways  are. 


THE    WAR-PATH  OF  THE  BOONES.  19 

"Yamous  job  this  here,"  cried  John,  looking  up  to  be  sure 
of  it,  because  there  were  so  many;  "here  be  my  own  nick  on 
the  post.  Red  Jem,  too,  and  no  doubt  of  him ;  he  do  hang  so 
handsome  like,  and  his  ribs  up  laike  a  horse  a'most.  God 
bless  them  as  discoovered  the  way  to  make  a  rogue  so  useful. 
Good  naight  to  thee,  Jem,  my  lad;  and  not  break  thy  drames 
with  the  craikin'." 

John  Fry  shook  his  bridle-arm,  and  smote  upon  Smiler  mer- 
rily, as  he  jogged  into  the  homeward  track  from  the  guiding 
of  the  body.  But  I  was  sorry  for  Red  Jem,  and  wanted  to 
know  more  about  him,  and  whether  he  might  not  have  avoided 
this  miserable  end,  and  what  his  wife  and  children  thought  of 
it,  if,  indeed,  he  had  any.  But  John  would  talk  no  more  about 
it;  and  perliaps  he  was  moved  with  a  lonesome  feeling,  as  the 
creaking  sound  came  after  us. 

"Hould  thee  tongue,  lad,"  he  said  sharply;  "us  be  naigh 
the  Doone-track  now,  two  maile  from  Dunkery  Beacon  hill, 
the  haighest  place  of  Hexmoor.  So  happen  they  be  abroad 
to-naight,  us  must  crawl  on  our  belly-places,  boy." 

I  knew  at  once  what  he  meant,  —  those  bloody  Doones  of 
Bagworthy,  the  awe  of  all  Devon  and  Somerset,  outlaws, 
traitors,  murderers.  My  little  legs  began  to  tremble  to  and 
fro  upon  Peggy's  sides,  as  I  heard  the  dead  robber  in  chains 
behind  us,  and  thought  of  the  live  ones  still  in  front. 

"But,  John,"  I  whispered,  warily,  sidling  close  to  liis 
saddle-bow;  "dear  John,  you  don't  think  they  will  see  us  in 
such  a  fog  as  this?" 

"Never  God  made  vog  as  could  stop  their  eyesen,"  he  whis- 
pered in  answer,  fearfully;  "here  us  be  by  the  hollow  ground. 
Zober,  lad,  goo  zober  now,  if  thee  wish  to  see  thy  moother." 

For  I  was  inclined,  in  the  manner  of  boys,  to  make  a  run  of 
the  danger,  and  cross  the  Doone-track  at  full  speed;  to  rush 
for  it,  and  be  done  with  it.  But  even  then  I  wondered  why 
he  talked  of  my  mother  so,  and  said  not  a  word  of  father. 

We  were  come  to  a  long  deep  "goyal,"  as  they  call  it  on  Ex- 
moor,  a  word  whose  fountain  and  origin  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with.  Only  I  know  that  when  little  boys  laughed  at  me  at  Tiv- 
erton, for  talking  al)out  a  "goyal,"  a  big  boy  clouted  tliem  on 
tlie  head,  and  said  that  it  was  in  Homer,  and  meant  the  liollow 
of  the  hand.  And  another  time  a  Welshman  told  me  that  it 
must  be  something  like  the  thing  they  call  a  "pant"  in  tliose 
I^arts.  Still  1  know  what  it  means  well  enough, — to  wit,  a 
long  trough  among  wild  hills,  falling  towai'ds  tlu;  ])lain  coun- 
try, rounded  at  the  bottom,  perhaps,  and  stiif,  more  than  steep, 


20  LOBNA  BOONE. 

at  the  sides  of  it.  Whether  it  be  straight  or  crooked,  makes 
no  difference  to  it. 

We  rode  very  carefully  down  our  side,  and  through  the  soft 
grass  at  the  bottom,  and  all  the  while  we  listened  as  if  the  air 
was  a  speaking-trumpet.  Then  gladly  we  breasted  our  nags  to 
the  rise,  and  were  coming  to  the  comb  of  it,  when  I  heard 
something,  and  caught  John's  arm,  and  he  bent  his  hand  to 
the  shape  of  his  ear.  It  was  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  knock- 
ing up  through  splashy  ground,  as  if  the  bottom  sucked  tliem. 
Then  a  grunting  of  weary  men,  and  the  lifting  noise  of  stir- 
rups, and  sometimes  the  clank  of  iron  mixed  with  the  wheezy 
croning  of  leather,  and  the  blowing  of  hairy  nostrils. 

"  God's  sake.  Jack,  slip  round  her  belly,  and  let  her  go 
where  she  wull." 

As  John  Fry  whispered,  so  I  did,  for  he  was  off  Smiler  by 
this  time;  but  our  two  pads  were  too  fagged  to  go  far,  and 
began  to  nose  about  and  crop,  sniffing  more  than  they  need 
have  done.  I  crept  to  John's  side  very  softly,  with  the  bridle 
on  my  arm. 

"Let  goo  braidle;  let  goo,  lad.  Plaise  God  they  take  them 
for  forest-ponies,  or  they'll  zend  a  bullet  through  us." 

I  saw  what  he  meant,  and  let  go  the  bridle ;  for  now  the 
mist  was  rolling  off,  and  we  were  against  the  sky-line  to  the 
dark  cavalcade  below  us.  John  lay  on  the  ground  by  a  bar- 
row of  heather,  where  a  little  gullet  was,  and  I  crept  to  him, 
afraid  of  the  noise  I  made  in  dragging  my  legs  along,  and  the 
creak  of  my  cord  breeches.  John  bleated  like  a  sheex^  to  cover 
it  —  a  sheep  very  cold  and  trembling. 

Then  just  as  the  foremost  horseman  passed,  scarce  twenty 
yards  below  us,  a  puff  of  wind  came  up  the  glen,  and  the  fog 
rolled  off  before  it.  And  suddenly  a  strong  red  light,  cast  by 
the  cloud-weight  downwards,  spread  like  fingers  over  the 
moorland,  opened  the  alleys  of  darkness,  and  hung  on  the 
steel  of  the  riders. 

"Dunkery  Beacon,"  whispered  John,  so  close  into  my  ear, 
that  I  felt  his  lips  and  teeth  ashake;  "dursn't  fire  it  now,  no 
more  than  to  show  the  Doones  way  home  again,  since  the 
naight  as  they  went  up,  and  throwed  the  watchman  atop  of  it. 
Why,  wutt  be  'bout,  lad?     God's  sake " 

For  I  could  keep  still  no  longer,  but  wrigglnd  away  from  his 
arm,  and  along  the  little  gullet,  still  going  fiat  on  my  breast 
and  thighs,  until  I  was  under  a  gray  patcli  of  stone,  with  a 
fringe  of  dry  fern  round  it;  there  I  lay,  scarce  twenty  feet 
above  the  heads  of  the  riders,  and  I  feared  to  draw  my  breath, 
though  prone  to  do  it  with  wonder. 


THE   WAR-PATH  OF  THE  HOOIfES.  21 

For  now  the  beacon  was  rushing  up,  in  a  fiery  storm  to 
heaven,  and  the  form  of  its  flame  came  and  went  in  the  fokls, 
and  the  heavy  sky  was  hovering.  All  around  it  was  hung 
with  red,  deep  in  twisted  columns,  and  then  a  giant  beard  of 
lire  streamed  throughout  the  darkness.  The  sullen  hills  were 
flanked  with  light,  and  the  valleys  chined  with  shadow,  and 
all  the  sombrous  moors  between  awoke  in  furrowed  anger. 

But  most  of  all,  the  flinging  fire  leaped  into  the  rocky  moutli 
of  the  glen  below  me,  where  the  horsemen  passed  in  silence, 
scarcely  deigning  to  look  round.  Heavy  men,  and  large  of 
stature,  reckless  how  they  bore  their  guns,  or  how  they  sate 
their  horses,  with  leathern  jerkins,  and  long  boots,  and  iron 
plates  on  breast  and  head,  plunder  heaped  behind  their  saddles, 
and  flagons  slung  in  front  of  them;  more  than  thirty  went 
along,  like  clouds  upon  red  sunset.  Some  had  carcases  of 
sheep  swinging  with  their  skins  on,  others  had  deer,  and  one 
had  a  child  flung  across  his  saddle-bow.  Whether  the  child 
were  dead,  or  alive,  was  beyond  my  vision,  only  it  hung  head 
downwards  there,  and  must  take  the  chance  of  it.  They  had 
got  the  child,  a  very  young  one,  for  the  sake  of  the  dress,  no 
doubt,  which  they  could  not  stop  to  pull  off  from  it;  for  the 
dress  shone  bright,  where  the  fire  struck  it,  as  if  with  gold  and 
jewels.  I  longed  in  my  heart  to  know  most  sadly,  what  they 
would  do  with  the  little  thing,  and  whether  they  would  eat  it. 

It  touched  me  so  to  see  that  child,  a  prey  among  those  vul- 
tures, that  in  my  foolish  rage  and  burning  I  stood  uj),  and 
shouted  to  them,  leaping  on  a  rock,  and  raving  out  of  all  pos- 
session. Two  of  them  turned  round,  and  one  set  his  carbine 
at  me,  but  the  other  said  it  was  but  a  pixie,  and  bade  him 
keep  his  powder.  Little  they  knew,  and  less  tliouglit  1,  that 
the  pixie  then  before  them  would  dance  their  castle  down  one 
day. 

John  Fry,  who  in  the  spring  of  fright  had  brought  himself 
down  from  Smiler's  side,  as  if  he  were  dipped  in  oil,  now  came 
up  to  me,  danger  l)eing  over,  cross,  and  still",  and  aching  sorely 
from  his  wet  couch  of  heather. 

"  Small  thanks  to  thee,  Jan,  as  my  new  waife  bain't  a  wid- 
der.  And  who  be  you  to  zupport  of  her,  and  her  son,  if  slie 
have  one?  Zarve  thee  right,  if  I  was  to  chuck  tlice  down  into 
the  Doone-track.  Zim  thee'll  come  to  un,  zooner  or  later,  if 
this  be  the  zample  of  thee." 

And  that  was  all  he  had  to  say,  instead  of  thanking  God! 
For  if  ever  born  man  was  in  a  fright,  and  ready  to  thank  (jod 
for  anything,  the  name  of  that  man  was  "  JolinFry,"  not  more 
than  five  minutes  agone. 


22  LOBNA  DOONE. 

However,  I  answered  nothing  at  all,  except  to  be  ashamed 
of  myself;  and  soon  we  found  Peggy  and  Smiler  in  company, 
well  embarked  on  the  homeward  road,  and  victualling  where 
the  grass  was  good.  Kight  glad  they  were  to  see  us  again,  — 
not  for  the  pleasure  of  carrying,  but  because  a  horse  (like  a 
woman)  lacks,  and  is  better  without,  self-reliance. 

My  father  never  came  to  meet  us,  at  either  side  of  the  tell- 
ing-house, neither  at  the  crooked-post,  nor  even  at  home-lin- 
hay,  although  the  dogs  kept  such  a  noise  that  he  must  have 
heard  us.  Home-side  of  the  linhay,  and  under  the  ashen 
hedgerow,  where  father  taught  me  to  catch  blackbirds,  all  at 
once  my  heart  went  down,  and  all  my  breast  was  hollow. 
There  was  not  even  the  lanthorn  light  on  the  peg  against  the 
cow's  house,  and  nobody  said  "  Hold  your  noise !  "  to  the  dogs, 
or  shouted  "  Here  our  Jack  is !  " 

I  looked  at  the  posts  of  the  gate,  in  the  dark,  because  they 
were  tall,  like  father,  and  then  at  the  door  of  the  harness- 
room,  where  he  used  to  smoke  his  pipe  and  sing.  Then  I 
thought  he  had  guests  perhaps  —  people  lost  upon  the  moors  — 
whom  he  could  not  leave  unkindly,  even  for  his  son's  sake. 
And  yet  about  that  I  was  jealous,  and  ready  to  be  vexed  with 
him,  when  he  should  begin  to  make  much  of  me.  And  I  felt 
in  my  pocket  for  the  new  pipe  which  I  had  brought  him  from 
Tiverton,  and  said  to  myself,  "He  shall  not  have  it  until 
to-morrow  morning." 

Woe  is  me!  I  cannot  tell.  How  I  knew  I  know  not  now  — 
only  that  I  slunk  away,  without  a  tear,  or  thought  of  weeping, 
and  hid  me  in  a  saw-pit.  There  the  timber,  over-head,  came 
like  streaks  across  me ;  and  all  I  wanted  was  to  hide,  and  none 
to  tell  me  anything. 

By  and  by,  a  noise  came  down,  as  of  woman's  weeping  j 
and  there  my  mother  and  sister  were,  choking  and  holding 
together.  Although  they  were  my  dearest  loves,  I  could  not 
bear  to  look  at  them,  until  they  seemed  to  want  my  help,  and 
turned  away,  that  I  might  come. 


A  EASE   VISIT.  28 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  RASH  VISIT. 

My  dear  father  had  been  killed  by  tlie  Doones  of  Bagworthy, 
while  riding  home  from  Porloek  market,  on  the  Saturday  even- 
ing. With  him  were  six  brother-farmers,  all  of  them  very 
sober;  for  father  would  have  no  company  with  any  man  who 
went  beyond  half-a-gallon  of  beer,  or  a  single  gallon  of  cider. 
The  robbers  had  no  grudge  against  him;  for  he  had  never 
flouted  them,  neither  made  overmuch  of  outcry,  because  they 
robbed  other  people.  For  he  was  a  man  of  such  strict  honesty, 
and  due  parish  feeling,  that  he  knew  it  to  be  every  man's 
own  business  to  defend  himself  and  his  goods;  unless  he 
belonged  to  our  parish,  and  then  we  must  look  after  him. 

These  seven  farmers  were  jogging  along,  helping  one 
another  in  the  troubles  of  the  road,  and  singing  goodly  hymns 
and  songs,  to  keep  their  courage  moving,  when  suddenly  a 
horseman  stopped  in  the  starlight  full  across  them. 

By  dress  and  arms  they  knew  him  well,  and  by  his  size  and 
stature,  shown  against  the  glimmer  of  the  evening  star;  and 
though  he  seemed  one  man  to  seven,  it  was  in  truth  one  man 
to  one.  Of  the  six  who  had  been  singing  songs  and  psalms, 
about  the  power  of  God,  and  their  own  regeneration  —  such 
psalms  as  went  the  round,  in  those  days,  of  the  public-houses 
—  there  was  not  one  but  pulled  out  his  money,  and  sang 
small  beer  to  a  Doone. 

But  father  had  been  used  to  think,  that  any  man,  who  was 
comfortable  inside  his  own  coat  and  waistcoat,  deserved  to 
have  no  other  set,  unless  he  would  strike  a  blow  for  them. 
And  so,  while  his  gossips  doffed  their  hats,  and  shook  witli 
what  was  left  of  them,  he  set  his  staff  above  his  head,  and 
rode  at  the  Doone  robber.  With  a  trick  of  his  horse,  the  wild 
man  escaped  the  sudden  onset;  although  it  must  have  amazed 
him  sadly,  that  any  durst  resist  him.  Tlien  when  Smiler  was 
carried  away  with  tlie  dash  and  the  weight  of  my  father  (not 
being  brought  up  to  battle,  nor  used  to  turn,  save  in  plough 
harness),  the  outlaw  whistled  upon  his  tliumb,  and  plundered 
the  rest  of  tlie  yeomen.  But  fatlier,  drawing  at  Smilcr's  head, 
to  try  to  come  back  and  help  tliem,  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dozen 
men,  who  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  turf-rick,  some  on  horse, 
and  some  a-foot.     Nevertheless,  he  smote  lustily,  so  far  as  he 


24  LORNA   BOONE. 

could  see;  and  being  of  great  size  and  strength,  and  his  blood 
well  up,  tliey  had  no  easy  job  with  him.  AVith  the  play  ol'  his 
wrist,  he  cracked  three  or  four  crowns,  being  always  famous 
at  single-stick;  until  the  rest  drew  their  horses  away,  and  he 
thought  that  he  was  master,  and  would  tell  his  wife  about  it. 

But  a  man  beyond  the  range  of  staff  was  crouching  by  the 
peat-stack,  with  a  long  gun  set  to  his  shoulder,  and  he  got  poor 
father  against  the  sky,  and  I  cannot  tell  the  rest  of  it.  Only 
they  knew  that  Smiler  came  home,  with  blood  upon  his 
withers,  and  father  was  found  in  the  morning  dead  on  the 
moor,  with  his  ivy-twisted  cudgel  lying  broken  under  him. 
Now,  whether  this  were  an  honest  tight,  God  judge  betwixt 
the  Doones  and  me. 

It  was  more  of  woe  than  wonder,  being  such  days  of  vio- 
lence, that  mother  knew  herself  a  widow,  and  her  children 
fatherless.  Of  children  there  were  only  three,  none  of  us  fit 
to  be  useful  yet,  only  to  comfort  mother,  by  making  her  to 
work  for  us.  I,  John  Ridd,  was  the  eldest,  and  felt  it  a  heavy 
thing  on  me;  next  came  sister  Annie,  with  about  two  years 
between  us ;  and  then  the  little  Eliza. 

Now,  before  I  got  home  and  found  my  sad  loss  —  and  no 
boy  ever  loved  his  father  better  than  I  loved  mine  —  mother 
had  done  a  most  w^ondrous  thing,  which  made  all  the  neigh- 
bors say  that  she  must  be  mad,  at  least.  Upon  the  Monday 
morning,  while  her  husband  lay  unburied,  she  cast  a  white 
hood  over  lier  hair,  and  gathered  a  black  cloak  round  her,  and, 
taking  counsel  of  no  one,  set  off  on  foot  for  the  Doone-gate. 

In  the  early  afternoon  she  came  to  the  hollow  and  barren 
entrance;  where  in  truth  there  was  no  gate,  only  darkness  to 
go  through.  If  I  get  on  with  this  story,  I  shall  have  to  tell  of 
it  by  and  by,  as  I  saw  it  afterwards ;  and  will  not  dwell  there 
now.  Enough  that  no  gun  was  tired  at  her,  only  her  eyes 
were  covered  over,  and  somebody  led  her  by  the  hand,  without 
any  wish  to  hurt  her. 

A  very  rough  and  headstrong  road  was  all  that  she  remem- 
bered, for  she  could  not  think  as  she  wished  to  do,  with  the 
cold  iron  pushed  against  her.  At  the  end  of  this  road  they 
delivered  her  eyes,  and  she  could  scarce  believe  them. 

For  she  stood  at  the  head  of  a  deep  green  valley,  carved 
from  out  the  mountains  in  a  perfect  oval,  with  a  fence  of  sheer 
rock  standing  round  it,  eighty  feet  or  a  hundred  high;  from 
whose  brink  black  wooded  hills  swept  up  to  the  sky-line.  By 
her  side  a  little  river  glided  out  from  underground  with  a  soft 
dark  babble,    unawares   of  daylight;   then  growing  brighter, 


A   RASH  VISIT.  25 

lapsed  away,  and  fell  into  the  valley.  There,  as  it  ran  down 
the  meadow,  alders  stood  on  either  marge,  and  grass  was 
blading  out  upon  it,  and  yellow  tufts  of  rushes  gathered,  look- 
ing at  the  hurry.  But  further  down,  on  either  bank,  were 
covered  houses,  built  of  stone,  square  and  roughly  cornered, 
set  as  if  the  brook  were  meant  to  be  the  street  between  them. 
Only  one  room  high  they  were,  and  not  placed  opposite  each 
other,  but  in  and  out  as  skittles  are;  only  that  the  first  of  all, 
which  proved  to  be  the  captain's,  Avas  a  sort  of  double  house, 
or  rather  two  houses  joined  together  by  a  plank-bridge  over 
the  river. 

Fourteen  cots  my  mother  counted,  all  very  much  of  a  pat- 
tern, and  nothing  to  choose  between  them,  unless  it  were  the 
captain's.  Deep  in  the  quiet  valley  there,  away  from  noise, 
and  violence,  and  brawl,  save  that  of  the  rivulet,  any  man 
would  have  deemed  them  homes  of  simple  mind  and  inno- 
cence. Yet  not  a  single  house  stood  there  but  was  the  home 
of  murder. 

Two  men  led  my  mother  down  a  steep  and  gliddery  stair- 
way, like  the  ladder  of  a  hay -mow;  and  thence,  from  the 
break  of  the  falling  water,  as  far  as  the  house  of  the  captain. 
And  there  at  the  door,  they  left  her  trembling,  strung  as  she 
was,  to  speak  her  mind. 

Xow,  after  all,  what  right  had  she,  a  common  farmer's 
widow,  to  take  it  amiss  that  men  of  birth  thought  tit  to  kill 
her  husband  ?  And  the  Doones  were  of  very  high  birth,  as 
all  we  clods  of  Exmoor  knew;  and  we  had  enough  of  good 
teaching  now  —  let  any  man  say  the  contrary  —  to  feel  that 
all  we  had  belonged  of  right  to  those  above  us.  Therefore 
my  mother  was  half-ashamed,  that  she  could  not  help 
complaining. 

But  after  a  little  while,  as  she  said,  remembrance  of  her 
husband  came,  and  the  way  he  used  to  stand  l)y  her  side  and 
put  his  strong  arm  round  her,  and  how  he  liked  his  bacon 
fried,  and  praised  her  kindly  for  it,  —  and  so  the  tears  were 
in  her  eyes,  and  nothing  should  gainsay  them. 

A  tall  old  man.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  came  out  with  a  bill-hook 
in  his  hand,  and  hedger's  gloves  going  up  his  arms,  as  if  he 
were  no  better  than  a  laborer  at  ditch-work.  Only  in  his 
mouth  and  eyes,  his  gait,  and  most  of  all  his  voice,  even  a 
child  could  know  and  feel,  that  here  was  no  ditch-laborer. 
Good  cause  he  has  found  since  then,  perhaps,  to  wish  that  he 
had  been  one. 

With  his  white  locks  moving  upon  his  coat,  he  stopped  and 


26  LOENA  DOONE. 

looked  down  at  my  mother,  and  she  could  not  help  herself  but 
courtesy  under  the  fixed  black  gazing. 

"  Good  woman,  you  are  none  of  us.  Who  has  brought  you 
hither  ?  Young  men  must  be  young  —  but  I  have  had  too 
much  of  this  work." 

And  he  scowled  at  my  mother,  for  her  comeliness ;  and  yet 
looked  under  his  eyelids,  as  if  he  liked  her  for  it.  But  as  for 
lier,  in  tlie  depth  of  love-grief,  it  struck  scorn  upon  her  woman- 
hood; and  in  the  flash  she  spoke. 

"What  you  moan,  I  know  not.  Traitors!  cut-throats! 
cowards!  I  am  liere  to  ask  for  my  husband."  She  could  not 
say  any  more,  because  her  heart  was  now  too  much  for  her, 
coming  hard  in  her  throat  and  mouth ;  but  she  opened  up  her 
eyes  at  him. 

"Madam,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone  —  being  born  a  gentleman, 
although  a  very  bad  one  —  "I  crave  pardon  of  you.  My  eyes 
a,re  old,  or  I  might  have  known.  IS^ow,  if  we  have  your  hus- 
band prisoner,  he  shall  go  free  without  ransom,  because  I  have 
insulted  you." 

"Sir,"  said  my  mother,  being  suddenly  taken  away  with 
sorrow,  because  of  his  gracious  manner,  "  please  to  let  me  cry 
a  bit." 

He  stood  away,  and  seemed  to  know  that  women  want  no 
help  for  that.  And  by  the  way  she  cried,  he  knew  that  they 
had  killed  her  husband.  Then,  having  felt  of  grief  himself, 
he  was  not  angry  with  her,  bi;t  left  her  to  begin  again. 

"Loth  would  I  be,"  said  mother,  sobbing  with  her  new  red 
handkerchief,  and  looking  at  the  pattern  of  it,  "  loth  indeed, 
Sir  Ensor  Doone,  to  accuse  any  one  unfairly.  But  I  have  lost 
the  very  best  husband  God  ever  gave  to  a  woman ;  and  I  knew 
him  when  he  was  to  your  belt,  and  I  not  up  to  your  knee,  sir; 
and  never  an  unkind  word  he  spoke,  nor  stopped  me  short  in 
speaking.  All  the  herbs  he  left  to  me,  and  all  the  bacon- 
curing,  and  when  it  was  best  to  kill  a  pig,  and  how  to  treat 
the  maidens.  Not  that  I  would  ever  wish  —  oh,  John,  it 
seems  so  strange  to  me,  and  last  week  you  were  everything." 

Here  mother  burst  out  crying  again,  not  loudly,  but  turning 
quietly,  because  she  knew  that  no  one  now  would  ever  care  to 
wipe  the  tears.  And  fifty  or  a  hundred  things,  of  weekly  and 
daily  happening,  came  across  my  mother,  so  that  her  spirit 
fell,  like  slackening  lime. 

"This  matter  must  be  seen  to;  it  shall  be  seen  to  at  once," 
the  old  man  answered,  moved  a  little  in  spite  of  all  his  knowl- 
edge.    "  Madam,  if  any  wrong  has  been  done,  trust  the  honor 


A  BASH   VISIT.  27 

of  a  Doone ;  I  will  redress  it  to  my  utmost.  Come  inside  and 
rest  yourself,  while  I  ask  about  it.  What  was  your  good  hus- 
band's name,  and  when  and  where  fell  this  mishap  ?  " 

"Deary  me,"  said  mother,  as  he  sat  a  chair  for  her  very 
polite,  but  she  would  not  sit  upon  it;  "Saturday  morning  I 
was  a  wife,  sir;  and  Saturday  night  I  was  a  widow,  and  my 
children  fatherless.  My  husband's  name  was  'John  Ridd,' 
sir,  as  everybody  knows ;  and  there  was  not  a  finer  or  better 
man,  in  Somerset  or  Devon.  He  was  coming  home  from  Por- 
lock  market,  and  a  new  gown  for  me  on  the  crupper,  and  a  shell 
to  put  my  hair  up,  —  oh,  John,  how  good  you  were  to  me !  " 

Of  that  she  began  to  think  again,  and  not  to  believe  her 
sorrow,  except  as  a  dream  from  the  evil  one,  because  it  was  too 
bad  upon  her,  and  perhaps  she  would  awake  in  a  minute,  and 
her  husband  would  have  the  laugh  of  her.  And  so  she  wiped 
her  eyes  and  smiled,  and  looked  for  something. 

"Madam,  this  is  a  serious  tiling,"  Sir  Ensor  Doone  said 
graciously,  and  showing  grave  concern :  "  my  boys  are  a  little 
wild,  I  know.  And  yet  I  cannot  think  that  they  would  will- 
ingly harm  any  one.  And  yet  —  and  yet,  you  do  look  sad. 
Send  Counsellor  to  me,"  he  shouted,  from  the  door  of  his 
house ;  and  down  the  valley  went  the  call,  "  send  Counsellor 
to  Captain." 

Counsellor  Doone  came  in,  ere  yet  my  mother  was  herself 
again ;  and  if  any  sight  could  astonish  her,  wlien  all  lier  sense 
of  right  and  wrong  was  gone  astray  with  the  force  of  things, 
it  was  the  sight  of  the  Counsellor.  A  square-lnxilt  man  of 
enormous  strength,  but  a  foot  below  the  Doone  stature  (wliicli 
I  shall  describe  hereafter),  he  carried  a  long  gray  beard 
descending  to  tlie  leather  of  his  belt.  Great  eyebrows  over- 
hung his  face,  like  ivy  on  a  pollard  oak,  and  under  them  two 
large  brown  eyes,  as  of  an  owl  when  muting.  And  he  liad  a 
power  of  hiding  liis  eyes,  or  showing  them  lu-ight,  like  a  blaz- 
ing fire.  He  stood  there  with  his  beaver  off,  and  mother  tried 
to  look  at  him ;  but  he  seemed  not  to  descry  her. 

"Counsellor,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  standiiig  back  in  his 
height  from  him,  "here  is  a  lady  of  good  repute " 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  only  a  woman." 

"Allow  me,  madam,  by  your  good  leave.  Here  is  a  lady. 
Counsellor,  of  great  rejnitc!  in  this  part  of  the  country,  who 
charges  the  Doones  with  liaving  unjustly  slain  Ijer  hus- 
band   " 

"Murdered  him!  murdered  him!"  cried  my  mother;  "if 
ever  there  was  a  murder.     Oh,  sir!  oh,  sir!  you  know  it." 


28  LOBNA   BOONE. 

"The  perfect  right  and  truth  of  the  case  is  all  I  wish  to 
know, "  said  the  old  man,  very  loftily ;  "  and  justice  shall  be 
done,  madam." 

"  Oh,  I  pray  you  —  pray  you,  sirs,  make  no  matter  of  busi- 
ness of  it.     God  from  heaven,  look  on  me !  " 

"Put  the  case,"  said  the  Counsellor. 

"The  case  is  this,"  replied  Sir  Ensor,  holding  one  hand  up 
to  mother:  "This  lady's  worthy  husband  was  slain,  it  seems, 
upon  his  return  from  the  market  at  Porlock,  no  longer  ago 
than  last  Saturday  night.     Madam,  amend  me  if  I  am  wrong." 

"No  longer,  indeed,  indeed,  sir.  Sometimes  it  seems  a 
twelvemonth,  and  sometimes  it  seems  an  hour." 

"Cite  his  name,"  said  the  Counsellor,  with  his  eyes  still 
rolling  inwards. 

"'Master  John  Ridd,'  as  I  understand.  Counsellor,  we 
have  heard  of  him  often ;  a  worthy  man  and  a  peaceful  one, 
who  meddled  not  with  our  duties.  Now,  if  any  of  our  boys 
have  been  rough,  they  shall  answer  it  dearly.  And  yet  I  can 
scarce  believe  it.  For  the  folk  about  these  parts  are  apt  to 
misconceive  of  our  sufferings,  and  to  have  no  feeling  for  us. 
Counsellor,  you  are  our  record,  and  very  stern  against  us ;  tell 
us  how  this  matter  was." 

"Oh,  Counsellor!"  my  mother  cried;  "Sir  Counsellor,  you 
will  be  fair;  I  see  it  in  your  countenance.  Only  tell  me  who 
it  was,  and  set  me  face  to  face  with  him ;  and  I  will  bless  you, 
sir;  and  God  shall  bless  you,  and  my  children." 

The  square  man  with  the  long  gray  beard,  quite  unmoved 
by  anything,  drew  back  to  the  door,  and  spoke,  and  his  voice 
was  like  a  fall  of  stones  in  the  bottom  of  a  mine. 

"  Few  words  will  be  enow  for  this.  Four  or  five  of  our  best- 
behaved  and  most  peaceful  gentlemen  went  to  the  little  market 
at  Porlock,  with  a  lump  of  money.  They  bought  some  house- 
hold stores  and  comforts  at  a  very  high  price,  and  pricked 
upon  the  homeward  road,  away  from  vulgar  revellers.  When 
they  drew  bridle  to  rest  their  horses,  in  the  shelter  of  a  peat- 
rick,  the  night  being  dark  and  sudden,  a  robber  of  great  size 
and  strength  rode  into  the  midst  of  them,  thinking  to  kill  or 
terrify.  His  arrogance,  and  hardihood,  at  the  first  amazed 
them,  but  they  would  not  give  up  without  a  blow  goods  which 
were  on  trust  with  them.  He  had  smitten  three  of  them 
senseless,  for  the  power  of  his  arm  was  terrible;  whereupon 
the  last  man  tried  to  ward  his  blow  with  a  pistol.  Carver, 
sir,  it  was,  our  brave  and  noble  Carver,  who  saved  the  lives 
of  his  brethren  and  his  own;  and  glad  enow  they  were  to 


A   BASH   VISIT.  29 

escape.  Notwithstanding,  Ave  hoped  it  might  be  only  a  flesh- 
wound,  and  not  to  speed  him  in  his  sins." 

As  this  atrocious  tale  of  lies  turned  up  joint  by  joint  before 
her,  like  a  "devil's  coach-horse,"^  motiier  was  too  much 
amazed  to  do  any  more  than  look  at  him,  as  if  the  earth  must 
open.  But  the  only  thing  that  opened  was  the  great  brown 
eyes  of  the  Counsellor,  which  rested  on  my  mother's  face, 
with  a  dew  of  sorrow,  as  he  spoke  of  sins. 

She,  unable  to  bear  them,  turned  suddenly  on  Sir  Ensor, 
and  caught  (as  she  fancied)  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  a  sense  of 
quiet  enjoyment. 

"All  the  Doones  are  gentlemen,"  answered  the  old  man, 
gravely,  and  looking  as  if  he  had  never  smiled  since  he  was 
a  baby.  "  We  are  always  glad  to  explain,  madam,  any  mis- 
take which  the  rustic  people  may  fall  upon  about  us ;  and  we 
wish  you  clearly  to  conceive,  that  we  do  not  charge  your  poor 
husband  with  any  set  purpose  of  robbery;  neither  will  we 
bring  suit  for  any  attainder  of  his  property.  Is  it  not  so, 
Counsellor?" 

"Without  doubt  his  land  is  attainted;  unless  in  mercy  you 
forbear,  sir." 

"Counsellor,  we  will  forbear.  Madam,  we  will  forgive 
him.  Like  enough  he  knew  not  right  from  wrong,  at  that 
time  of  night.  The  waters  are  strong  at  Porlock,  and  even  an 
honest  man  may  use  his  staff  unjustly,  in  this  unchartered  age 
of  violence  and  rapine." 

The  Doones  to  talk  of  rapine !  Mother's  head  went  round 
so,  that  she  courtesied  to  them  both,  scarcely  knowing  where 
she  was,  but  calling  to  mind  her  manners.  All  the  time  she 
felt  a  warmth,  as  if  the  right  was  with  her,  and  yet  she  could 
not  see  the  way  to  spread  it  out  before  them.  With  that,  she 
dried  her  tears  in  haste,  and  went  into  the  cohl  air,  for  fear  of 
speaking  mischief. 

But  when  she  was  on  the  homeward  road,  and  the  sentinels 
had  charge  of  her,  blinding  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  not  blind 
enough  with  weeping,  some  one  came  in  haste  behind  her,  and 
thrust  a  heavy  leathern  bag  into  the  limp  weiglit  of  her  hand. 

"Captain  sends  you  this,"  he  whispered;  "take  it  to  the 
little  ones." 

But  mother  let  it  fall  in  a  heap,  as  if  it  had  been  a  blind 
worm;  and  then  for  the  first  time  crouched  before  God,  that 
even  tlie  Doones  should  pity  her. 

1  The  cock-tailed  beetle  has  earned  this  name  in  the  West  of  England. 


30  LOBNA   DOONE. 

CHAPTER  V. 

AN    ILLEGAL    SETTLEMENT. 

Good  folk,  who  dwell  in  a  lawful  land,  if  any  such  there  be, 
may,  for  want  of  exploration,  judge  our  neighborhood  harshly, 
unless  the  whole  truth  is  set  before  them.  In  bar  of  such 
prejudice,  many  of  us  ask  leave  to  explain  how,  and  why,  the 
robbers  came  to  that  head  in  the  midst  of  us.  We  would  rather 
not  have  had  it  so,  and  were  wise  enough  to  lament  it ;  but  it 
grew  upon  us  gently,  in  the  following  manner.  Only  let  all 
who  read  observe  that  here  I  enter  many  tilings  which  came  to 
my  knowledge  in  later  years. 

In  or  about  the  year  of  our  Lord  1610,  when  all  the  troubles 
of  England  were  swelling  to  an  outburst,  great  estates  in  the 
north  country  were  suddenly  confiscated,  through  some  feud  of 
families,  and  strong  influence  at  Court,  and  the  owners  were 
turned  upon  the  world,  and  might  think  themselves  lucky  to 
save  their  necks.  These  estates  were  in  co-heirship,  joint 
tenancy  I  think  they  called  it,  although  I  know  not  the  mean- 
ing, only  so  that  if  either  tenant  died,  the  other  living,  all 
would  come  to  the  live  one,  in  spite  of  any  testament. 

One  of  the  joint  owners  was  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  a  gentleman 
of  brisk  intellect;  and  the  other  owner  was  his  cousin,  the  Earl 
of  Lome  and  Dykemont. 

Lord  Lome  was  some  years  ^the  elder  of  his  cousin  Ensor 
Doone,  and  was  making  suit  to  gain  severance  of  the  cumber- 
some joint-tenancy,  by  any  fair  apportionment,  when  suddenly 
this  blow  fell  on  them,  by  wiles  and  woman's  meddling;  and 
instead  of  dividing  the  land,  they  were  divided  from  it. 

The  nobleman  was  still  well-to-do,  though  crippled  in  his 
expenditure ;  but  as  for  the  cousin,  he  was  left  a  beggar,  with 
many  to  beg  from  him.  He  thought  that  the  other  had 
wronged  him,  and  that  all  the  trouble  of  law  befell  through  his 
unjust  petition.  Many  friends  advised  him  to  make  interest 
at  Court;  for,  having  done  no  harm  whatever,  and  being  a  good 
Catholic,  which  Lord  Lome  was  not,  he  would  be  sure  to  find 
hearing  there,  and  probably  some  favor.  But  he,  like  a  very 
hot-brained  man,  although  he  had  long  been  married  to  the 
daughter  of  his  cousin  (whom  he  liked  none  the  more  for  that), 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  any  attempt  at  making  a  patch  of 
it,  but  drove  aAvay  with  his  wife  and  sons,  and  the  relics  of  his 


AN  ILLEGAL   SETTLEMENT.  31 

money,  swearing  hard  at  everybody.  In  this  he  may  have  been 
quite  wrong ;  probably,  perhaps  he  was  so ;  but  I  am  not  con- 
vinced at  all,  but  what  most  of  us  would  have  done  the  same. 

Some  say  that,  in  the  bitterness  of  that  wrong  and  outrage, 
he  slew  a  gentleman  of  the  Court,  whom  he  supposed  to  have 
borne  a  hand  in  the  plundering  of  his  fortunes.  Others  say 
that  he  bearded  King  Charles  the  First  himself,  in  a  manner 
beyond  forgiveness.  One  thing,  at  any  rate,  is  sure  —  Sir 
Ensor  was  attainted,  and  made  a  felon  outlaw,  through  some 
violent  deed  ensuing  upon  his  dispossession. 

He  had  searched  in  many  quarters  for  somebody  to  help  him, 
and  with  good  warrant  for  hoping  it;  inasmuch  as  he,  in  his 
lucky  days,  had  been  open-handed  and  cousinly  to  all  who 
begged  advice  of  him.  But  now  all  these  provided  him  with 
plenty  of  good  advice  indeed,  and  great  assurance  of  feeling, 
but  not  a  movement  of  leg,  or  lip,  or  purse-string  in  his  favor. 
All  good  people  of  either  persuasion,  royalty  or  commonalty, 
knowing  his  kitchen-range  to  be  cold,  no  longer  would  play 
turnspit.  And  this,  it  may  be,  seared  his  heart,  more  than 
the  loss  of  land  and  fame. 

In  great  despair  at  last,  he  resolved  to  settle  in  some  out- 
landish part,  where  none  could  be  found  to  know  him;  and  so, 
in  an  evil  day  for  us,  he  came  to  the  West  of  England.  Not 
that  our  part  of  the  world  is  at  all  outlandish,  according  to  my 
view  of  it  (for  I  never  found  a  better  one),  but  that  it  was 
known  to  be  rugged  and  large,  and  desolate.  And  here,  when 
he  had  discovered  a  place  which  seemed  almost  to  be  made  for 
him,  so  withdrawn,  so  self-defended,  and  uneasy  of  access, 
some  of  the  country-folk  around  brought  him  little  offerings 
—  a  side  of  bacon,  a  keg  of  cider,  hung  mutton,  or  a  brisket  of 
venison;  so  that  for  a  little  while  he  was  very  honest.  But 
when  the  newness  of  his  coming  began  to  wear  away,  and  our 
good  folk  were  apt  to  think,  that  even  a  gentleman  ought  to 
work,  or  pay  other  men  for  doing  it,  and  many  farmers  were 
grown  weary  of  manners  without  discourse  to  them,  and  all 
cried  out  to  one  another,  how  unfair  it  was  that  owning  such  a 
fertile  valley,  young  men  would  not  spade  or  plough  by  reason 
of  noble  lineage  —  then  the  young  Doones,  growing  up,  took 
things  they  would  not  ask  for. 

And  here  let  me,  as  a  solid  man,  owner  of  iive  hundred  acres 
(whether  fenced  or  otherwise,  and  that  is  my  own  business), 
churchwarden  also  of  this  parish  (until  I  go  to  the  churcliyard), 
and  proud  to  be  called  tlie  parson's  friend  —  for  a  better  man 
I  never  knew  with  tobacco  and  strong  waters,  nor  one  wlio 


32  LORN  A  nOONE. 

could  read  the  lessons  so  well,  and  he  has  been  at  Blundell's 
too  —  once  for  all  let  me  declare  that  I  am  a  thorough-going 
Church-and-State  man,  and  Eoyalist,  without  any  mistake 
about  it.  And  this  I  lay  down,  because  some  people,  judging 
a  sausage  by  the  skin,  may  take  in  evil  part  my  little  glosses 
of  style  and  glibness,  and  the  mottled  natvire  of  my  remarks, 
and  cracks  now  and  then  on  the  frying-pan.  I  assure  them  I 
am  good  inside,  and  not  a  bit  of  rue  in  me ;  only  queer  knots, 
as  of  marjoram,  and  a  stupid  manner  of  bursting. 

There  was  not  more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  counting  a  few 
retainers,  who  still  held  by  Sir  Ensor;  but  soon  they  grew  and 
multiplied  in  a  manner  surprising  to  think  of.  Whether  it 
was  the  venison,  which  we  call  a  strengthening  victual,  or 
whether  it  was  the  Exmoor  mutton,  or  the  keen  soft  air  of  the 
moorlands,  anyhow  the  Doones  increased  much  faster  than 
their  honesty.  At  first  they  had  brought  some  ladies  with 
them,  of  good  repute  with  charity;  and  then,  as  time  went  on, 
they  added  to  their  stock  by  carrying.  They  carried  off  many 
good  farmers'  daughters,  who  were  sadly  displeased  at  first; 
but  took  to  them  kindly  after  awhile,  and  made  a  new  home  in 
their  babies.  For  women,  as  it  seems  to  me,  like  strong  men 
more  than  weak  ones,  feeling  that  they  need  some  staunchness, 
something  to  hold  fast  by. 

And  of  all  the  men  in  our  country,  although  we  are  of  a 
thickset  breed,  you  scarce  could  find  one  in  threescore  fit  to 
be  placed  among  the  Doones,  without  looking  no  more  than  a 
tailor.  Like  enough,  we  could  meet  them,  man  for  man  (if  we 
chose  all  around  the  crown  and  the  skirts  of  Exmoor),  and  show 
them  what  a  cross-buttock  means,  because  we  are  so  stuggy: 
but  in  regard  of  stature,  comeliness,  and  bearing,  no  woman 
would  look  twice  at  us.  Not  but  what  I  myself,  John  Ridd, 
and  one  or  two  I  know  of  —  but  it  becomes  me  best  not  to  talk 
of  that,  although  my  hair  is  gray. 

Perhaps  their  den  might  well  have  been  stormed,  and  them- 
selves driven  out  of  the  forest,  if  honest  people  had  only  agreed 
to  begin  with  them  at  once,  when  first  they  took  to  plundering. 
But  having  respect  for  their  good  birth,  and  pity  for  their  mis- 
fortunes, and  perhaps  a  little  admiration  at  the  justice  of  God, 
that  robbed  men  now  were  robbers,  the  squires,  and  farmers, 
and  shepherds,  at  first  did  nothing  more  than  grumble  gently, 
or  even  make  a  laugh  of  it,  each  in  the  case  of  others.  After 
awhile  they  found  the  matter  gone  too  far  for  laughter,  as  vio- 
lence and  deadly  outrage  stained  the  hand  of  robbery,  until 
every  woman  clutched  her  child,  and  every  man  turned  pale  at 


AN  ILLEGAL    SETTLEMENT.  33 

the  very  name  of  "Doone."  For  the  sons,  and  grandsons,  of 
Sir  Ensor,  grew  up  in  foul  liberty,  and  haughtiness,  and 
hatred,  to  utter  scorn  of  God  and  man,  and  brutality  towards 
dumb  animals.  There  was  only  one  good  thing  about  them,  if 
indeed  it  were  good,  to  wit,  their  faith  to  one  another,  and 
truth  to  their  wild  eyry.  But  this  only  made  them  feared  the 
more,  so  certain  was  the  revenge  they  wreaked  upon  any  who 
dared  to  strike  a  Doone.  One  night,  soon  after  I  was  born, 
when  they  were  sacking  a  rich  man's  house,  not  very  far  from 
Minehead,  a  shot  was  fired  at  them  in  the  dark,  of  which  they 
took  little  notice,  and  only  one  of  them  kneAV  that  any  harm 
was  done.  But  when  they  were  well  on  the  homeward  road, 
not  having  slain  either  man  or  woman,  or  even  burned  a  house 
down,  one  of  their  number  fell  from  his  saddle,  and  died  with- 
out so  much  as  a  groan.  The  youth  had  been  struck,  but  would 
not  complain,  and  perhaps  took  little  heed  of  the  wound,  while 
he  was  bleeding  inwardly.  His  brothers  and  cousins  laid  him 
softly  on  a  bank  of  Avhortle-berries,  and  just  rode  back  to  the 
lonely  hamlet,  where  he  had  taken  his  death-wound.  IS^o  man, 
nor  woman,  was  left  in  the  morning,  nor  house  for  any  to  dwell 
in,  only  a  child  with  its  reason  gone.^ 

This  affair  made  prudent  people  find  more  reasons  to  let 
them  alone,  than  to  meddle  with  them ;  and  now  they  had  so 
entrenched  themselves,  and  waxed  so  strong  in  number,  that 
nothing  less  than  a  troop  of  soldiers  could  wisely  enter  their 
premises;  and  even  so  it  might  turn  out  ill,  as  perchance  we 
shall  see  by  and  by. 

For  not  to  mention  the  strength  of  the  place,  which  I  shall 
describe  in  its  proper  order,  when  I  come  to  visit  it,  there 
was  not  one  among  them  but  was  a  mighty  man,  straight  and 
tall,  and  wide,  and  fit  to  lift  four  hundred-weight.  If  son  or 
grandson  of  old  Doone,  or  one  of  the  northern  retainers,  failed 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  while  standing  on  his  naked  feet,  to  touch 
with  his  forehead  the  lintel  of  Sir  Ensor's  door,  and  to  fill  the 
door-frame  with  his  shoulders  from  sidejiost  even  to  sidepost, 
he  was  led  away  to  the  narrow  pass,  Avhich  made  their  valley 
so  desperate,  and  thrust  from  the  crown  with  ignominy,  to  get 
his  own  living  honestly.  Now,  the  measure  of  tliat  doorway 
is,  or  ratl:er  was,  I  ought  to  say,  six  feet  and  one  inch  length- 
wise, and  two  feet  all  but  two  inches  taken  crossways  in  the 
clear.  Yet  I  not  only  have  heard,  but  know,  being  so  closely 
mixed  with  them,  that  no  descendant  of  old  Sir  Ensor,  neither 

1  This  vile  deed  was  done,  beyond  all  doubt. 

VOL.  I.  —  3 


34  LORNA   BOONE. 

relative  of  his  (except,  indeed,  tlie  Counsellor,  who  was  kept 
by  them  for  his  wisdom),  and  no  more  than  two  of  their  follow- 
ing, ever  failed  of  that  test,  and  relapsed  to  the  difficult  ways 
of  honesty. 

Not  that  I  think  anything  great  of  a  standard  the  like  of 
that;  for  if  they  had  set  me  in  that  door-frame  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  it  is  like  enough  that  I  should  have  walked  away  with 
it  on  my  shoulders,  though  I  was  not  come  to  my  full  strength 
then;  only  I  am  speaking  now  of  the  average  size  of  our  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  Doones  were  far  beyond  that.  Moreover, 
they  were  taught  to  shoot  with  a  heavy  carabine,  so  delicately 
and  wisely,  that  even  a  boy  could  pass  a  ball  through  a  rabbit's 
head,  at  a  distance  of  fourscore  yards.  Some  people  may 
tliink  nought  of  this,  being  in  practice  with  longer  shots  from 
tlie  tongue  than  from  the  shoulder;  nevertheless,  to  do  as  above 
is,  to  my  ignorance,  very  good  work,  if  you  can  be  sure  to  da 
it.  Not  one  word  do  I  believe  of  Eobin  Hood  splitting  peeled 
Avands  at  sevenscore  yards,  and  sucli  like.  Whoever  wrote 
such  stories  knew  not  how  slippery  a  peeled  wand  is,  even  if 
one  could  hit  it,  and  how  it  gives  to  the  onset.  Now,  let  him 
stick  one  in  the  ground,  and  take  his  bow  and  arrow  at  it,  ten 
yards  away,  or  even  five. 

Now,  after  all  this  which  I  have  written,  and  all  the  rest 
which  a  reader  will  see,  being  quicker  of  mind  than  I  am  (who 
leave  more  than  half  behind  me,  like  a  man  sowing  wheat,  with 
his  dinner  laid  in  the  ditch  too  near  his  dog),  it  is  much  but 
y.^hat  you  will  understand  the  Doones,  far  better  than  I  did,  or 
do  even  to  this  moment;  and  therefore  none  will  doubt,  when 
I  tell  them  that  our  good  justitiaries  feared  to  make  an  ado,  or 
hold  any  public  enquiry  about  my  dear  father's  death.  They 
would  all  have  had  to  ride  home  at  night  and  who  could  say 
what  might  betide  them?  Least  said  soonest  mended,  because 
less  chance  of  breaking. 

So  we  buried  him  quietly  —  all  except  my  mother,  indeed, 
for  she  could  not  keep  silence  —  in  the  sloping  little  church- 
yard of  Oare,  as  meek  a  place  as  need  be,  with  the  Lynn  brook 
down  below  it.  There  is  not  much  of  company  there  for  any- 
body's tombstone,  because  the  parish  spreads  so  far  in  woods, 
and  moors,  without  dwelling  house.  If  we  bury  one  man  in 
three  years,  or  even  a  woman  or  child,  we  talk  about  it  for 
three  months,  and  say  it  must  be  our  turn  next,  and  scarcely 
grow  accustomed  to  it,  until  we  hear  of  another  gone. 

Annie  was  not  allowed  to  come,  because  she  cried  so  terribly ; 
but  she  ran  to  the  window,  and  saw  it  all,  mooing  there  like  a 


NECESSARY  rEACTICE.  35 

little  calf,  so  frightened  and  so  left  alone.  As  for  Eliza,  she 
came  with  me,  one  on  each  side  of  mother,  and  not  a  tear  was 
in  her  eyes,  but  sndden  starts  of  wonder,  and  a  new  thing  to  be 
looked  at  unwillingly,  yet  curiously.  Poor  little  thing!  she 
was  very  clever,  the  only  one  of  our  family  —  thank  God  for 
the  same  —  but  none  the  more  for  that  guessed  she  what  it  is 
to  lose  a  father. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NECESSAKY    PRACTICE. 

About  the  rest  of  all  that  winter  I  remember  very  little, 
being  only  a  young  boy  then,  and  missing  my  father  most  out 
of  doors ;  as  when  it  came  to  the  bird-catching,  or  the  tracking 
of  hares  in  the  snow,  or  the  training  of  a  sheep-dog.  Often- 
times I  looked  at  his  gun,  an  ancient  piece  found  in  the  sea,  a 
little  below  Glenthorne,  and  of  which  he  was  mighty  proud, 
although  it  was  only  a  match-lock;  and  I  thought  of  the  times 
I  had  held  the  fuze,  while  he  got  his  aim  at  a  rabbit,  and  once 
even  at  a  red  deer  rubbing  among  the  hazels.  But  nothing 
came  of  my  looking  at  it,  so  far  as  I  remember,  save  foolish 
tears  of  my  own  perhaps ;  till  John  Fry  took  it  clown  one  day, 
from  the  hooks  wliere  father's  hand  had  laid  it;  and  it  hurt 
me  to  see  how  John  handled  it,  as  if  he  had  no  memory. 

"  Bad  job  for  he,  as  her  had  not  got  thiccy,  the  naight  as  her 
coom  acrass  them  Doones.  Rackon  Varmer  Jan  'ood  a-zhown 
them  the  wai  to  kingdom  come,  'stead  of  going  herzell  zo  aisy. 
And  a  maight  have  been  gooin'  to  market  now,  'stead  of  laying 
banked  up,  over  yanner.  Maister  Jan,  thee  can  zee  the  grave 
if  thee  look  alang  this  here  goon-barryel.  Buy  now,  wluitt  be 
blubberin'  at  ?     Wish  I  had  never  told  thee." 

"John  Pry,  I  am  not  blubbering;  you  make  a  great  mistake, 
John.  You  are  thinking  of  little  Annie.  I  coTigli  sometimes 
in  the  winter-weather,  and  father-  gives  me  lickerish.  I  mean 
—  I  mean  —  he  used  to.     Now  let  me  have  the  gun,  John." 

"Thee  have  the  goon,  Jan!  Thee  isn't  fit  to  putt  un  to  thy 
zhoulder.     What  a  weight  her  be,  for  sure! " 

"Me  not  liold  it,  John!  That  shows  how  much  you  know 
about  it.  Get  out  of  the  way,  Jolni ;  you  are  opposite  the  mouth 
of  it,  and  likely  it  is  loaded." 

John  Fry  jumped,  in  a  livelier  manner  than  when   he   was 


36  LOBNA   DOONE. 

doing  day-work;  and  I  rested  the  mouth  on  a  cross  rack -piece, 
and  felt  a  warm  sort  of  surety  that  I  could  hit  the  door  over 
opposite,  or  at  least,  the  cobwall  alongside  of  it,  and  do  no 
harm  in  the  orchard.  But  John  would  not  give  me  link  or 
fuze,  and,  on  the  whole,  I  was  glad  of  it,  though  carrying  on  as 
boys  do;  because  I  had  heard  my  father  say  that  the  Spanish 
gun  kicked  like  a  horse,  and  because  the  load  in  it  came  from 
his  hand,  and  I  did  not  like  to  undo  it.  But  I  never  found  it 
kick  very  hard,  when  firmly  set  to  the  shoulder,  unless  it  was 
badly  loaded.  In  truth  the  thickness  of  the  metal  was  enough 
almost  to  astonish  one ;  and  what  our  people  said  about  it  may 
have  been  true  enough,  although  most  of  them  are  such  liars 
—  at  least,  I  mean  they  make  mistakes,  as  all  mankind  must 
do.  Perchance  it  was  no  mistake  at  all,  to  say  that  this  ancient 
gun  had  belonged  to  some  noble  Spaniard,  the  captain  of  a  fine 
large  ship  in  the  "Invincible  Armada,"  which  we  of  England 
managed  to  conquer,  with  God  and  the  weather  helping  us,  a 
hundred  years  ago  or  more  —  I  can't  say  to  a  month  or  so. 

After  a  little  while,  when  John  had  fired  away  at  a  rat  the 
charge  I  held  so  sacred,  it  came  to  me  as  a  natural  thing  to 
practise  shooting  with  that  great  gun,  instead  of  John  Fry's 
blunderbuss,  which  looked  like  a  bell  with  a  stalk  to  it.  Per- 
haps for  a  boy  there  is  nothing  better  than  a  good  windmill  to 
shoot  at,  as  I  have  seen  them  in  flat  countries ;  but  we  have  no 
windmills  upon  the  great  moorland,  yet  here  and  there  a  few 
barn-doors,  where  shelter  is,  and  a  Avay  up  the  hollows.  And 
up  those  hollows  you  can  shoot,  with  the  help  of  the  sides  to 
lead  your  aim,  and  there  is  a  fair  chance  of  hitting  the  door, 
if  you  lay  your  cheek  to  the  barrel,  and  try  not  to  be  afraid  of  it. 

Gradually  I  won  such  skill,  that  I  sent  nearly  all  the  lead 
gutter  from  the  north  porch  of  our  little  church  through  our 
best  barn-door,  a  thing  which  has  often  repented  me  since, 
especially  as  churchwarden,  and  made  me  pardon  many  bad 
boys ;  but  father  was  not  buried  on  that  side  of  the  church. 

But  all  this  time,  while  I  was  roving  over  the  hills,  or  about 
the  farm,  and  even  listening  to  John  Fry,  my  mother,  being  so 
much  older,  and  feeling  trouble  longer,  went  about  inside  the 
house,  or  among  the  maids  and  fowls,  not  caring  to  talk  to  the 
best  of  them,  except  when  she  broke  out  sometimes  about 
the  good  master  they  had  lost,  all,  and  every  one  of  us.  But 
the  fowls  would  take  no  notice  of  it,  except  to  cluck  for  barley ; 
and  the  maidens,  though  they  had  liked  him  well,  were  think- 
ing of  their  sweethearts,  as  the  spring  came  on.  IVIother 
thought  it  wrong  of  them,  selfish,  and  ungrateful;   and  yet 


NECESSARY  PRACTICE.  37 

sometimes  she  was  proud  that  none  had  such  call  as  herself  to 
grieve  for  him.  Only  Annie  seemed  to  go  softly  in  and  out, 
and  cry,  with  nobody  along  of  her,  chiefly  in  the  corner  where 
the  bees  are,  and  the  grindstone.  But  somehow  she  would 
never  let  anybody  behold  her;  being  set,  as  you  may  say,  to 
think  it  over  by  herself,  and  season  it  with  weeping.  Many 
times  I  caught  her,  and  many  times  she  turned  upon  me ;  and 
then  I  could  not  look  at  her,  but  asked  how  long  to  dinner-time. 

Now  in  the  depth  of  the  winter  month,  such  as  we  call  Decem- 
ber; father  being  dead  and  quiet  in  his  grave  a  fortnight,  it 
happened  me  to  be  out  of  powder,  for  practice  against  his 
enemies.  I  had  never  fired  a  shot  without  thinking,  "  This 
for  father's  murderer;  "  and  John  Fry  said  that  I  made  such 
faces,  it  was  a  wonder  the  gun  went  off.  But  though  I  could 
hardly  hold  the  gun,  unless  with  my  back  against  a  bar,  it  did 
me  good  to  hear  it  go  off,  and  hope  to  have  bitten  his  enemies. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother, "  I  said  that  day,  directly  after  dinner, 
while  she  was  sitting  looking  at  me,  and  getting  ready  to  say 
(as  now  she  did  seven  times  in  a  week),  "  How  like  your  father 
you  are  growing!  Jack,  come  here  and  kiss  me,"  —  "oh, 
mother,  if  you  only  knew,  how  much  I  want  a  shilling!  " 

"  Jack,  you  shall  never  want  a  shilling,  while  I  am  alive  to 
give  thee  one.     But  what  is  it  for,  dear  heart,  dear  heart?" 

"  To  buy  something  over  at  Porlock,  mother.  Perhaps  I  will 
tell  you  afterwards.  If  I  tell  not,  it  Avill  be  for  your  good, 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  children." 

"  Bless  the  boy,  one  would  think  he  was  threescore  years  of 
age  at  least.  Give  me  a  little  kiss,  you  Jack,  and  you  shall 
have  the  shilling." 

For  I  hated  to  kiss,  or  be  kissed,  in  those  days ;  and  so  all 
honest  boys  must  do,  when  God  puts  any  strength  in  them. 
But  now  I  wanted  the  powder  so  much,  that  I  Avent  and  kissed 
mother,  very  shyly,  looking  round  the  corner  first,  for  Betty 
not  to  see  me. 

But  mother  gave  me  half-a-dozen,  and  only  one  shilling  for 
all  of  them;  and  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  lieart  to  ask  her  for 
another,  although  I  would  have  taken  it.  In  very  quick  time, 
I  ran  away  with  the  shilling  in  my  pocket,  and  got  Peggy  out 
on  the  Porlock  road,  without  my  mother  knowing  it.  For 
mother  was  frightened  of  that  road  now,  as  if  all  the  trees  were 
murderers,  and  would  never  let  me  go  alone  so  much  as  a  hun- 
dred yards  on  it.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  touched  witli 
fear  for  many  years  aljout  it;  and  even  now,  when  I  rid(!  at 
dark  there,  a  man  by  a  peat-rick  makes  me  shiver,  until  I  go 


38  LORNA   BOONE. 

and  collar  him.  But  this  time  I  was  very  bold,  having  John 
Fry's  blunderbuss,  and  keeping  a  sharp  look-out  wherever  any 
lurking-place  was.  However,  I  saw  only  sheep,  and  small  red 
cattle,  and  the  common  deer  of  the  forest,  until  I  was  nigh  to 
Porlock  town,  and  then  rode  straight  to  Mr.  Pooke's,  at  the 
sign  of  the  Spit  and  Gridiron. 

Mr.  Pooke  was  asleep,  as  it  happened,  not  having  much  to 
do  that  day ;  and  so  I  fastened  Peggy  by  the  handle  of  a  warm- 
ing-pan, at  which  she  had  no  better  manners  than  to  snort  and 
blow  her  breath ;  and  in  1  walked  with  a  manful  style,  bearing 
Jolm  Pry's  blunderbuss.  Now  Timothy  Pooke  was  a  peaceful 
man,  glad  to  live  without  any  enjoyment  of  mind  at  danger, 
and  I  was  tall  and  large  already,  as  most  lads  of  a  riper  age. 
Mr.  Pooke,  as  soon  as  he  opened  his  eyes,  dropped  suddenly 
under  the  counter-board,  and  drew  a  great  frying-pan  over  his 
head,  as  if  the  Doones  were  come  to  rob  him,  as  their  custom 
was,  mostly  after  the  fair-time.  It  made  me  feel  rather  hot 
and  queer,  to  be  taken  for  a  robber ;  and  yet  methinks  I  was 
proud  of  it. 

"  Gadzooks,  Master  Pooke,"  said  I,  having  learned  fine  words 
at  Tiverton;  "do  you  suppose  that  I  know  not  then  the  way  to 
carry  firearms  ?  An  it  were  the  old  Spanish  match-lock,  in 
the  lieu  of  this  good  flint-engine,  which  may  be  borne  ten  miles 
or  more,  and  never  once  go  off,  scarcely  couldst  thou  seem  more 
scared.  I  might  point  at  thee,  muzzle  on  —  just  so  as  I  do 
now  —  even  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  like  enough  it  would 
never  shoot  thee,  unless  I  pulled  the  trigger  hard,  with  a  crook 
upon  my  finger;  so,  you  see;  just  so.  Master  Pooke,  only  a 
trifle  harder." 

*'  God  sake,  John  Ridd,  God  sake,  dear  boy, "  cried  Pooke,  know- 
ing me  by  this  time ;  "  don't  'e,  for  good  love  now,  don't  'e  show 
it  to  me,  boy,  as  if  I  was  to  suck  it.  Put  'un  down,  for  good, 
now;  and  thee  shall  have  the  very  best  of  all  is  in  the  shop." 

"  Ho !  "  I  replied  with  much  contempt,  and  swinging  round 
the  gun  so  that  it  fetched  his  hoop  of  candles  down,  all  unkindled 
as  they  were :  "  Ho !  as  if  I  had  not  attained  to  the  handling 
of  a  gun  yet !  My  hands  are  cold,  coming  over  the  moors,  else 
would  I  go  bail  to  point  the  mouth  at  you  for  an  hour,  sir,  and 
no  cause  for  uneasiness." 

But  in  spite  of  all  assurances,  he  showed  himself  desirous 
only  to  see  the  last  of  my  gun  and  me.  I  dare  say  "  villanous 
salt-petre,"  as  the  great  playwright  calls  it,  was  never  so  cheap 
before  nor  since.  For  my  shilling  Master  Pooke  afforded  me 
two  great  packages,  over-large  to  go  into  my  pockets,  as  well 


NECESSABT  PRACTICE.  39 

as  a  mighty  chunk  of  lead,  which  I  bound  iipon  Peggy's  withers. 
And  as  if  all  this  had  not  been  enough,  he  presented  me  with  a 
roll  of  comfits  for  my  sister  Annie,  whose  gentle  face  and  pretty 
manners  won  the  love  of  everybody. 

There  was  still  some  daylight  here  and  there,  as  I  rose  the 
hill  above  Porlock,  wondering  whether  my  mother  would  be  in 
a  fright,  or  would  not  know  it.  The  two  great  packages  of 
powder,  slung  beliind  my  back,  knocked  so  hard  against  one 
another  that  I  feared  they  must  either  spill  or  blow  up,  and 
hurry  me  over  Peggy's  ears  from  the  woollen  cloth  I  rode  upon. 
For  father  always  liked  a  horse  to  have  some  wool  u])0u  his 
loins,  whenever  he  went  far  from  home,  and  had  to  stand  about, 
where  one  pleased,  hot,  and  wet,  and  panting.  And  father 
always  said  that  saddles  were  meant  for  men  full-groAvn,  and 
heavy,  and  losing  their  activity;  and  no  boy  or  young  man  on 
our  farm  durst  ever  get  into  a  saddle,  because  they  all  knew 
that  the  master  would  chuck  them  out  pretty  quickly.  As  for 
me,  I  had  tried  it  once,  from  a  kind  of  curiosity;  and  I  could 
not  walk  for  two  or  three  days,  the  leather  galled  my  knees  so. 
But  now,  as  Peggy  bore  me  bravely,  snorting  every  now  and 
then  into  a  cloud  of  air,  for  the  night  was  growing  frosty,  pres- 
ently the  moon  arose  over  the  shoulder  of  a  hill,  and  the  pony 
and  I  were  half  glad  to  see  her,  and  half  afraid  of  the  shadow 
she  threw,  and  the  images  all  around  us.  I  was  read}?-  at  any 
moment  to  shoot  at  anybody,  having  great  faith  in  my  blunder- 
buss, but  hoping  not  to  prove  it.  And  as  I  passed  the  narrow 
place  where  the  Doones  had  killed  my  father,  such  a  fear  broke 
out  upon  me  that  I  leaned  upon  the  neck  of  Peggy,  and  shut  my 
eyes,  and  was  cold  all  over.  However,  there  was  not  a  soul 
to  be  seen,  until  we  came  home  to  the  old  farmyard,  and  there 
was  my  mother  crying  sadly,  and  Betty  INIuxworthy  scohling. 

"Come  along,  now,"  I  whispered  to  Annie,  the  moment  sup- 
per was  over;  "and  if  you  can  hold  your  tongue,  Annie,  I  will 
show  you  something." 

She  lifted  lierself  on  the  bench  so  quickly,  and  flushed  so 
rich  with  pleasure,  that  I  Avas  obliged  to  stare  hard  away,  and 
make  Betty  look  beyond  us.  Betty  thought  I  had  something 
liid  in  the  closet  Ijeyond  tlu;  clock-case,  and  she  was  tlie  more 
convinced  of  it,  by  reason  of  my  diniial.  Not  tliat  l)Ctty  iMu.x- 
worthy,  or  any  one  else,  for  that  matter,  ever  found  inc  in  a 
falsehood,  because  I  never  told  one,  not  even  to  my  mother, 
—  or,  wliich  is  still  a  stronger  thing,  not  even  to  my  sweet- 
heart (wluni  I  grew  up  to  have  one)  —  but  that  Betty  being 
wronged  in  the  matter  of  marriage,  a  generation  or  two  agonc. 


40  LORNA   BOONE. 

by  a  man  who  came  hedging  and  ditching,  had  now  no  mercy, 
except  to  believe  that  men  from  cradle  to  grave  are  liars,  and 
women  fools  to  look  at  them. 

When  Betty  could  find  no  crime  of  mine,  she  knocked  me 
out  of  the  way  in  a  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  nobody ;  and  then 
she  began  to  coax  "Mistress  Annie,"  as  she  always  called  her, 
and  draw  the  soft  hair  down  her  hands,  and  whisper  into  the 
little  ears.  Meanwhile,  dear  mother  was  falling  asleep,  hav- 
ing been  troubled  so  much  about  me ;  and  "  Watch,"  my  father's 
pet  dog,  was  nodding  closer  and  closer  up  into  her  lap. 

''Now,  Annie,  will  you  come?"  I  said,  for  I  wanted  her  to 
hold  the  ladle  for  melting  of  the  lead;  "will  you  come  at  once, 
Annie?     Or  must  I  go  for  Lizzie,  and  let  her  see  the  whole 

of  it?" 

"Indeed,  then,  you  won't  do  that,"  said  Annie;  "Lizzie  to 
come  before  me,  John;  and  she  can't  stir  a  pot  of  brewis,  and 
scarce  knows  a  tongue  from  a  ham,  John,  and  says  it  makes 
no  difference,  because  both  are  good  to  eat!  Oh,  Betty,  what 
do  you  think  of  that,  to  come  of  all  her  book-learning?" 

"Thank  God  he  can't  say  that  of  me,"  Betty  answered 
shortly,  for  she  never  cared  about  argument,  except  on  her 
own  side;  "Thank  he,  I  says,  every  marnin'  a'most,  never  to 
lead  me  astray  so.  Men  is  desaving,  and  so  is  galanies;  but 
the  most  desaving  of  all  is  books,  with  their  heads  and  tails, 
and  speckots  in  'em,  lik  a  peg  as  have  taken  the  maisles. 
Some  folks  purtends  to  laugh  and  cry  over  them.  God  forgive 
them  for  liars !  " 

It  was  part  of  Betty's  obstinacy,  that  she  never  would 
believe  in  reading,  or  the  possibility  of  it,  but  stoutly  main- 
tained to  the  very  last,  that  people  first  learned  things  by 
heart,  and  then  pretended  to  make  them  out  from  patterns  done 
upon  paper,  for  the  sake  of  astonishing  honest  folk,  just  as  do 
the  conjurors.  And  even  to  see  the  parson  and  clerk  was  not 
enough  to  convince  her;  all  she  said  was,  "it  made  no  odds, 
they  were  all  the  same  as  the  rest  of  us."  And  now  that  she 
had  been  on  the  farm  nigh  upon  forty  years,  and  had  nursed 
my  father,  and  made  his  clothes,  and  all  that  he  had  to  eat, 
and  then  dressed  him  in  his  coflan,  she  was  come  to  such  author- 
ity, that  it  was  not  worth  the  wages  of  the  best  man  on  the 
place  to  say  a  word  in  answer  to  Betty,  even  if  he  would  face 
the  risk  to  have  ten  for  one,  or  twenty. 

Annie  was  her  love  and  joy.  For  Annie  she  would  do  any- 
thing, even  so  far  as  to  try  to  smile,  when  the  little  maid 
laughed  and  danced  to  her.     And  in  truth  I  know  not  how  it 


HA  ED  IT  IS   TO   CLIMB.  41 

was,  but  every  one  was  taken  with  Annie,  at  the  very  first  time 
of  seeing  her.  She  had  such  pretty  ways  and  manners,  and 
such  a  look  of  kindness,  and  a  sweet  soft  light  in  her  long  blue 
eyes,  full  of  trustful  gladness.  Everybody  wlio  looked  at  her 
seemed  to  grow  the  better  for  it,  because  she  knew  no  evil. 
And  then  the  turn  she  had  for  cooking,  you  never  would  have 
expected  it;  and  how  it  was  her  richest  mirth  to  see  that  she 
had  pleased  you.  I  have  been  out  on  the  world  a  vast  deal,  as 
you  will  own  hereafter,  and  yet  have  I  never  seen  Annie's 
equal  for  making  a  weary  man  comfortable. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HAKD    IT    IS    TO    CLIMB. 

So  many  a  winter-night  went  by,  in  a  hopeful  and  pleasant 
manner,  with  the  hissing  of  the  bright  round  bullets,  cast  into 
the  water,  and  the  spluttering  of  the  great  red  apples,  which 
Annie  was  roasting  for  me.  We  always  managed  our  even- 
ing's work  in  the  chimney  of  the  back-kitchen,  where  there 
was  room  to  set  chairs  and  table,  in  spite  of  the  fire  burning. 
On  the  right-hand  side  was  a  mighty  oven,  where  Betty  threat- 
ened to  bake  us ;  and  on  the  left,  long  sides  of  bacon,  made  of 
favored  pigs,  and  growing  very  brown  and  comely.  Annie 
knew  the  names  of  all,  and  ran  up  through  the  wood-smoke, 
every  now  and  then,  when  a  gentle  memory  moved  her,  and 
asked  them  how  they  were  getting  on,  and  when  they  would 
like  to  be  eaten.  Then  she  came  back  with  foolish  tears,  for 
thinking  of  that  necessity;  and  I,  being  soft  in  a  different  way, 
would  make  up  my  mind  against  l^acon. 

But,  Lord  bless  you !  it  was  no  good.  Whenever  it  came  to 
breakfast-time,  after  three  hours  u])on  the  moors,  I  r(\gu]arly 
forgot  the  pigs,  but  paid  good  heed  to  the  rashers.  For  ours 
is  a  hungry  country,  if  such  there  be  in  England;  a  place,  1 
mean,  where  men  must  eat,  and  are  quick  to  discharge  the 
duty.  The  air  of  the  moors  is  so  shrewd  and  wholesonn»,  stir- 
ring a  man's  recollection  of  tlie  good  things  whicli  have  betided 
him,  and  whetting  his  hope  of  something  still  better  in  the 
future,  that  by  tlie  time  he  sits  down  to  a  clotli,  his  heart  and 
stomach  are  tuned  too  well  to  say  "nay"  to  one  another. 

Almost  everyljody  knows,  in  our  part  of  the  world  at  least, 
how   jdeasant  and  soft  the  fall  of  the  land  is   round   aliout 


42  LORNA   BOONE. 

Plover's  Barrows  farm.  All  above  it  is  strong  dark  mountain, 
spread  with  heath,  and  desolate,  but  near  our  house  the  valleys 
cove,  and  open  warmth  and  shelter.  Here  are  trees,  and  bright 
green  grass,  and  orchards  full  of  contentment,  and  a  man  may 
scarce  espy  the  brook,  although  he  hears  it  everywhere.  And 
indeed  a  stout  good  piece  of  it  comes  through  our  farmyard, 
and  swells  sometimes  to  a  rush  of  waves,  when  the  clouds  are 
on  the  hill-tops.  But  all  below,  where  the  valley  bends,  and 
the  Lynn  stream  goes  along  with  it,  pretty  meadows  slope 
their  breast,  and  the  sun  spreads  on  the  water.  And  nearly 
all  of  this  is  ours,  till  you  come  to  Nicholas  Snowe's  land. 

But  about  two  miles  below  our  farm,  the  Bagworthy  water 
runs  into  the  Lynn,  and  makes  a  real  river  of  it.  Thence  it 
hurries  away,  with  strength  and  a  force  of  wilful  waters,  under 
the  foot  of  a  barefaced  hill,  and  so  to  rocks  and  woods  again, 
where  the  stream  is  covered  over,  and  dark,  heavy  pools  delay 
it.  There  are  plenty  of  fish  all  down  this  way,  and  the  further 
you  go  the  bigger  they  be,  having  deeper  grounds  to  feed  in; 
and  sometimes  in  the  summer  months,  when  mother  could 
spare  me  off  the  farm,  I  came  down  here,  with  Annie  to  help 
(because  it  was  so  lonely),  and  caught  well-nigh  a  basketful  of 
little  trout  and  minnows,  with  a  hook  and  a  lut  of  worm  on  it, 
or  a  fern-web,  or  a  blow-fly,  hung  from  a  hazel  pulse-stick. 
For  of  all  the  things  I  learned  at  Blundell's,  only  two  abode 
with  me,  and  one  of  these  was  the  knack  of  fishing,  and  the 
other  the  art  of  swimming.  And  indeed  they  have  a  very 
rude  manner  of  teaching  children  to  swim  there;  for  the  big 
boys  take  the  little  boys,  and  put  them  tlirough  a  certain  proc- 
ess, which  they  grimly  ca,ll  "sheep-washing."  1\\  the  third 
meadow  from  the  gate  of  the  scliool,  going  up  the  river,  there 
is  a  fine  pool  in  the  Lowman,  where  the  Taunton  brook  comes 
in,  and  they  call  it  the  "  Taunton  pool."  The  water  runs  down 
with  a  strong,  sharp  stickle,  and  then  has  a  sudden  ell)ow  in  it, 
where  the  small  brook  trickles  in;  and  on  that  side  the  bank 
is  steep,  four,  or  it  may  be  five  feet  high,  overhanging  loamily ; 
but  on  the  other  side  it  is  flat,  pebbly,  and  fit  to  land  upon. 
Now  the  large  boys  take  the  small  boys,  crying  sadly  for  mercy, 
and  thinking,  mayhap,  of  their  mothers ;  Avith  hands  laid  well 
at  the  back  of  their  necks,  they  bring  them  up  to  the  crest  of 
the  bank  upon  the  eastern  side,  and  make  them  strip  their 
clothes  off.  Then  the  little  boys,  falling  on  their  naked  knees, 
blublier  upwards  piteously ;  but  the  large  boys  know  what  is 
good  for  them,  and  will  not  be  entreated,  ^o  they  cast  them 
down,  one  after  other,  into  the  splash  of  the  water,  and  watch 


HAED  IT  IS    TO   CLIMB.  43 

them  go  to  tlio  bottom  fii-st,  and  then  come  up  and  fight  for  it, 
with  a  blowing  and  a  bubbling.  It  is  a  very  fair  sight  to  watch, 
when  you  knoAV  there  is  little  danger;  because,  although  the 
pool  is  deep,  the  current  is  sure  to  wash  a  boy  up  on  the  stones, 
Avhere  the  end  of  the  depth  is.  As  for  me,  they  had  no 
need  to  throw  me  more  than  once,  because  I  jumped  in  of  my 
own  accord,  thinking  small  things  of  the  Lowman,  after  the 
violent  Lynn.  Nevertheless,  I  learnt  to  swim  there,  as  all  the 
other  boys  did;  for  the  greatest  point  in  learning  that  is  to  find 
that  you  must  do  it.  1  loved  the  water  naturally,  and  could 
not  long  be  out  of  it;  but  even  the  boys  who  hated  it  most, 
came  to  swim  in  some  fashion  or  other,  after  they  had  been 
flung,  for  a  year  or  two,  into  the  Taunton  pool. 

But  now,  although  my  sister  Annie  came  to  keep  me  com- 
pany, and  was  not  to  be  parted  from  me  by  the  tricks  of  the 
Lynn  stream,  because  I  put  her  on  my  back  and  carried  lier 
across,  whenever  she  could  not  leap  it,  or  tuck  up  her  things 
and  take  the  stones ;  yet  so  it  happened  that  neither  of  us  had 
been  up  the  Bagworthy  water.  We  knew  that  it  brought  a  good 
stream  down,  as  full  of  fish  as  of  pebbles;  and  we  thought  that 
it  must  be  very  pretty  to  make  a  way  where  no  way  was,  nor 
even  a  bullock  came  down  to  drink.  But  whether  we  were 
afraid  or  not,  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell,  because  it  is  so  long  ago ; 
but  I  think  that  had  something  to  do  with  it.  For  J^agworthy 
water  ran  out  of  Doone  valley,  a  mile  or  so  from  the  mouth 
of  it. 

But  when  I  was  turned  fourteen  years  old,  and  i)ut  into 
good  small-clothes,  buckled  at  the  knee,  and  strong  blue  worsted 
hosen,  knitted  by  my  mother,  it  happened  to  me  without  choice, 
I  may  say,  to  explore  the  Bagworthy  water.  And  it  came 
about  in  this  wise. 

J\ry  mother  had  long  been  ailing,  and  not  well  able  to  eat 
much;  and  there  is  nothiii<'  tliat  frisjhtens  us  so  much  as  for 
people  to  have  no  love  of  their  victuals.  Now  I  chanced  to 
remember,  that  once  at  the  time  of  the  holidays,  I  had  brouglit 
dear  mother  from  Tiverton  a  jar  of  pickled  loaches,  caught  by 
myself  in  the  Lowman  river,  and  baked  in  the  kitclieu  oven, 
with  vinegar,  a  few  leaves  of  bay,  and  about  a  dozen  pepper- 
corns. And  mother  had  said  that,  in  all  her  life,  she  had  never 
tasted  anything  fit  to  be  compared  with  them.  Whether  she 
said  so  good  a  thing,  out  of  compliment  to  my  skill  in  catcliing 
the  fish  and  cooking  tliem,  or  whether  she  really  meant  it,  is 
more  than  I  can  tell,  tliough  I  quite  believe  the  latter,  and  so 
would  most  people  who  tasted  them;  at  any  rate,  I  now  resolved 


44  LORNA  DOONE. 

to  get  some  loaclies  for  her,  and  do  them  in  the  self-same  man- 
ner, just  to  make  her  eat  a  bit. 

There  are  many  people,  even  now,  who  have  not  come  to  the 
right  knowledge  what  a  loach  is,  and  where  he  lives,  and  how 
to  catch  and  pickle  him.  And  I  will  not  tell  them  all  about 
it,  because  if  I  did,  very  likely  there  be  would  be  no  loaches 
left,  ten  or  twenty  years  after  tlie  appearance  of  this  book.  A 
pickled  minnow  is  very  good,  if  you  catch  him  in  a  stickle, 
with  the  scarlet  fingers  upon  him ;  but  I  count  him  no  more  than 
the  ropes  in  beer,  compared  with  a  loach  done  properly. 

Being  resolved  to  catch  some  loaches,  whatever  trouble  it 
cost  me,  I  set  forth  without  a  word  to  any  one,  in  the  forenoon 
of  St.  Valentine's  day,  1675-6,  I  think  it  must  have  been. 
Annie  should  not  come  with  me,  because  the  water  was  too 
cold;  for  the  winter  had  been  long,  and  snow  lay  here  and 
there,,  in  patches  in  the  hollow  of  the  banks,  like  a  lady's  gloves 
forgotten.  And  yet  the  spring  was  breaking  forth,  as  it  always 
does  in  Devonshire,  when  the  turn  of  the  days  is  over;  and 
though  there  was  little  to  see  of  it,  the  air  was  full  of  feeling. 

It  puzzles  me  now,  that  I  remember  all  those  young  impres- 
sions so,  because  I  took  no  heed  of  them  at  the  time  whatever^ 
and  yet  they  come  upon  me  bright,  when  nothing  else  is  evi- 
dent in  the  gray  fog  of  experience.  I  am  like  an  old  man 
gazing  at  the  outside  of  his  spectacles,  and  seeing,  as  he  rubs 
the  dust,  the  image  of  his  grandson  playing  at  bo-peep  with 
him. 

But  let  me  be  of  any  age,  I  never  could  forget  that  day,  and 
how  bitter  cold  the  water  was.  For  I  doffed  my  shoes  and  hose, 
and  put  them  into  a  bag  about  my  neck;  and  left  my  little  coat 
at  home,  and  tied  my  shirt-sleeves  back  to  my  shoulders.  Then 
I  took  a  three-pronged  fork  firmly  bound  to  a  rod  with  cord, 
and  a  piece  of  canvas  kerchief,  with  a  lump  of  bread  inside  it; 
and  so  went  into  the  pebbly  water,  trying  to  think  how  warm 
it  was.  For  more  than  a  mile  all  down  the  Lynn  stream, 
scarcely  a  stone  I  left  unturned,  being  thoroughly  skilled  in 
the  tricks  of  the  loach,  and  knowing  how  he  hides  himself, 
Por  being  gray-spotted,  and  clear  to  see  through,  and  some- 
thing like  a  cuttle  fish,  only  more  substantial,  he  will  stay  quite 
still,  where  a  streak  of  weed  is  in  the  rapid  water,  hoping  to 
be  overlooked,  nor  caring  even  to  wag  his  tail.  Then  being 
disturbed  he  flips  away,  like  whalebone  from  the  finger,  and 
hies  to  a  shelf  of  stone,  and  lies  with  his  sharp  head  poked  in 
under  it;  or  sometimes  he  bellies  him  into  the  mud  and  only 
shows  his  back-ridge.     And  that  is  the  time  to  spear  him 


HARD  IT  IS    TO    CLIMB.  46 

nicely,  holding  the  fork  very  gingerly,  and  allo^ving  for  the 
bent  of  it,  Avhich  comes  to  pass,  I  know  not  how,  at  the  tickle 
of  air  and  water. 

Or  if  your  loach  should  not  be  abroad,  when  first  you  come 
to  look  for  him,  but  keeping  snug  in  his  little  home,  then  you 
may  see  him  come  forth  amazed  at  the  quivering  of  tlie  shingles, 
and  oar  himself  and  look  at  you,  and  then  dart  upstream,  like 
a  little  gray  streak ;  and  then  you  must  try  to  mark  him  in, 
and  follow  very  daintily.  So  after  that,  in  a  sandy  place,  you 
steal  up  behind  his  tail  to  him,  so  that  he  cannot  set  eyes  on 
you,  for  his  head  is  upstream  always,  and  there  you  see  him 
abiding  still,  clear,  and  mild,  and  affable.  Then,  as  he  looks 
so  innocent,  you  make  full  sure  to  prog  him  well,  in  spite  of 
the  wry  of  the  water,  and  the  sun  making  elbows  to  everything, 
and  the  trembling  of  your  fingers.  But  when  you  gird  at  him 
lovingly,  and  have  as  good  as  gotten  him,  lo!  in  the  go-by  of 
the  river  he  is  gone  as  a  shadow  goes,  and  only  a  little  cloud  of 
mud  curls  away  from  the  prong  he  should  have  been  on. 

A  long  way  down  that  limpid  water,  chill  and  bright  as  an 
iceberg,  went  my  little  self  that  day,  on  man's  choice  errand 
—  destruction.  All  the  young  fish  seemed  to  know  that  I  was 
one  who  had  taken  out  God's  certificate,  and  meant  to  have  the 
value  of  it;  every  one  of  them  was  aware,  that  we  desolate 
more  than  replenish  the  earth.  For  a  cow  might  come  and  look 
into  the  water,  and  put  her  yellow  lips  down;  a  kingfisher,  like 
a  blue  arrow,  might  shoot  through  the  dark  alleys  over  the 
channel,  or  sit  on  a  dipping  withy-bough,  with  his  beak  sunk 
into  his  breast-feathers ;  even  an  otter  might  float  down-stream, 
likening  himself  to  a  log  of  wood,  with  his  flat  liead  flush  with 
the  water  top,  and  his  oily  eyes  peering  quietly ;  and  yet  no 
panic  would  seize  other  life,  as  it  does  when  a  sample  of  man 
comes. 

Now  let  not  any  one  suppose  that  I  thought  of  these  things 
when  I  was  young,  for  I  knew  not  the  way  to  do  it.  And 
proud  enough  in  truth  I  was,  at  the  universal  fear  I  spread  in 
all  those  lonely  j^laces,  wliere  I  myself  must  have  been  afraid, 
if  any  tiling  had  come  up  to  me.  It  is  all  very  pretty  to  see  the 
trees,  big  with  their  hopes  of  another  year,  though  dumb  as 
yet  on  the  subject,  and  the  waters  murmuring  gaiety,  and  tlie 
banks  spread  out  with  comfort;  but  a  boy  takes  none  of  this 
to  heart,  unless  he  be  meant  for  a  poet  (which  no  man  ever 
can  charge  on  me),  and  he  would  liefer  liave  a  good  apple,  or 
even  a  bad  one,  if  he  stoh;  it. 

When  I  had  travelled  two  miles  or  so,  conquered  now  and 


4e  LORNA   DOONE. 

then  with  cold,  and  coming  out  to  rub  my  legs  into  a  lively 
friction,  and  only  fishing  here  and  there  because  of  the  tum- 
bling water;  suddenly,  in  an  open  space,  where  meadows  spread 
about  it,  I  found  a  good  stream  flowing  softly  into  the  body  of 
our  brook.  And  it  brought,  so  far  as  I  could  guess  by  the 
sweep  of  it  under  my  kneecaps,  a  larger  power  of  clear  water 
than  the  Lynn  itself  had ;  only  it  came  more  quietly  down,  not 
being  troubled  with  stairs  and  steps,  as  the  fortune  of  the  Lynn 
is,  but  gliding  smoothly  and  forcibly,  as  if  upon  some  set  pur- 
pose. 

Hereupon  I  drew  up,  and  thought,  and  reason  was  much 
inside  me;  because  the  water  was  bitter  cold,  and  my  little  toes 
were  aching.  So  on  the  bank  I  rubbed  them  well  witli  a  sprout 
of  young  sting-nettle,  and  having  skipped  about  awhile,  was 
kindly  inclined  to  eat  a  bit. 

Now  all  the  turn  of  all  my  life  hung  upon  that  moment. 
But  as  I  sat  there  munching  a  crust  of  Betty  Muxworthy's 
sweet  brown  bread,  and  a  bit  of  cold  bacon  along  with  it,  and 
kicking  my  little  red  heels  against  the  dry  loam  to  keep  them 
warm,  I  knew  no  more  than  fish  under  the  fork,  what  was  going 
on  over  me.  It  seemed  a  sad  business  to  go  back  now,  and  tell 
Annie  there  were  no  loaches ;  and  yet  it  was  a  frightful  thing, 
knowing  what  I  did  of  it,  to  venture,  where  no  grown  man 
durst,  up  the  Bagworthy  water.  And  please  to  recollect  tliat 
I  was  only  a  boy  in  those  days,  fond  enough  of  anything  new, 
but  not  like  a  man  to  meet  it. 

However,  as  I  ate  more  and  more,  my  spirit  arose  within 
me,  and  I  thought  of  what  my  father  had  been,  and  how  he 
had  told  me  a  hundred  times,  never  to  be  a  coward.  And  tlien 
I  grew  warm,  and  my  little  heart  was  ashamed  of  its  pit-a- 
patting,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  now  if  father  looks,  he  shall 
see  that  I  obey  him."  So  I  put  the  bag  round  my  neck  again, 
and  buckled  my  breeches  far  up  from  tlie  knee,  expecting 
deeper  water,  and  crossing  the  Lynn,  went  stoutly  up  under 
the  branches  which  hang  so  dark  on  the  Bagworthy  river. 

I  found  it  strongly  over-woven,  turned,  and  torn  with  thicket- 
wood,  but  not  so  rocky  as  the  Lynn,  and  more  inclined  to  go 
evenly.  There  were  bars  of  chafed  stakes  stretched  from 
the  sides  half-way  across  the  current,  and  light  outriders  of 
pithy  weed,  and  blades  of  last  year's  water-grass  trembling  in 
the  quiet  places,  like  a  spider's  threads,  on  the  transparent 
stillness,  with  a  tint  of  olive  moving  it ;  and  here  and  there  the 
sun  came  in,  as  if  his  light  were  sifted,  making  dance  upon  the 
waves,  and  shadowing  the  pebbles. 


HARD  IT  IS    TO   CLIMB.  47 

Here,  altliougli  affrighted  often  by  the  deep,  dark  places,  and 
feeling  that  every  step  I  took  might  never  he  taken  backward, 
on  the  whole  I  had  very  comely  sport  of  loaches,  trout,  and 
minnows,  forking  some,  and  tickling  some,  and  driving  others 
to  shallow  nooks,  whence  I  could  bail  them  ashore.  Now,  if 
you  have  ever  been  tishing,  you  will  not  wonder  that  I  was  led 
on,  forgetting  all  about  danger,  and  taking  no  heed  of  the  time, 
but  shouting  in  a  childish  way,  whenever  I  cauglit  a  "  whacker  " 
(as  we  called  a  big  fish  at  Tiverton)  ;  and  in  sooth  there  were 
very  fine  loaches  here,  having  more  lie  and  harborage  than  in 
the  rough  Lynn  stream,  though  not  quite  so  large  as  in  the 
Lowman,  where  I  have  even  taken  tliem  to  the  weight  of  a 
quarter  of  a  pound. 

But  in  answer  to  all  my  shouts,  there  never  was  any  sound 
at  all,  except  of  a  rocky  echo,  or  a  scared  bird  hustling  away, 
or  the  sudden  dive  of  a  water-vole;  and  the  place  grew  thicker 
and  thicker,  and  the  covert  grew  darker  above  me,  vmtil  I 
thought  that  the  fishes  might  have  good  chance  of  eating  me, 
instead  of  my  eating  the  fishes. 

For  now  the  day  was  falling  fast  behind  the  brown  of  the  hill- 
tops ;  and  the  trees,  being  void  of  leaf  and  hard,  seemed  giants 
ready  to  beat  me.  And  every  moment,  as  the  sky  was  clearing 
up  for  a  white  frost,  the  cold  of  the  water  got  worse  and  worse, 
until  I  was  fit  to  cry  with  it.  And  so,  in  a  sorry  plight,  I  came 
to  an  opening  in  the  bushes,  where  a  great  black  pool  lay  in 
front  of  me,  Avhitened  with  snow  (as  I  thought)  at  the  sides, 
till  I  saw  it  Avas  only  foam-froth. 

Now,  though  I  could  swim  with  great  ease  and  comfort,  and 
feared  no  depth  of  water,  when  I  could  fairly  come  to  it,  yet  I 
had  no  desire  to  go  over  head  and  ears  into  this  great  pool, 
being  so  cramped  and  weary,  and  cold  enough  in  all  conscience, 
thougli  wet  only  up  to  the  middle,  not  counting  my  arms  and 
shoulders.  And  the  look  of  this  black  i)it  was  enough  to  sto]) 
one  from  diving  into  it,  even  on  a  hot  summer's  day  with  sun- 
shine on  the  water;  I  mean,  if  the  sun  ever  shone  there.  As 
it  was,  I  shuddered  and  drew  back;  not  alone  at  tlie  pool  itself, 
and  tlie  black  air  there  was  about  it,  but  also  at  tlie  whirling 
manner,  and  wisping  of  white  threads  upon  it,  in  stripy  circles 
round  and  round;  and  the  centre  still  as  jet. 

But  soon  I  saw  the  reason  of  the  stir  and  dei)th  of  that  great 
pit,  as  well  as  of  the  roaring  sound  which  long  had  made  me 
wonder.  For  skirting  round  one  side,  with  very  litth'  comfort, 
because  the  rocks  Avere  higli  and  steej),  and  the  h'dge  at  tlie  foot 
so  narrow,  I  came  to  a  sudden  sight  and  marvel,  such  as  I 


48  LOBNA   BOONE. 

never  dreamed  of.  For,  lo !  I  stood  at  the  foot  of  a  long  pale 
slide  of  water,  coming  smoothly  to  me,  without  any  break  or 
hindrance,  for  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  and  fenced  on  either 
side  with  cliff,  sheer,  and  straight,  and  shining.  The  water 
neither  ran  nor  fell,  nor  leaped  with  any  spouting,  but  made 
one  even  slope  of  it,  as  if  it  had  been  combed  or  planed,  and 
looking  like  a  plank  of  deal  laid  down  a  deep  black  staircase. 
However  there  was  no  side-rail,  nor  any  place  to  walk  upon, 
only  the  channel  a  fathom  wide,  and  the  perpendicular  walls 
of  crag  shutting  out  the  evening. 

The  look  of  this  place  had  a  sad  effect,  scaring  me  very 
greatly,  and  making  me  feel  that  I  would  give  something,  only 
to  be  at  home  again,  with  Annie  cooking  my  supper,  and  our 
dog,  "Watch,"  sniffing  upward.  But  nothing  would  come  of 
wishing;  that  I  had  long  found  out;  and  it  only  made  one  the 
less  inclined  to  work  without  white  feather.  So  I  laid  the  case 
before  me  in  a  little  council;  not  for  loss  of  time,  but  only  that 
I  wanted  rest,  and  to  see  things  truly. 

Then  says  I  to  myself, —  "  John  Ridd,  these  trees,  and  pools, 
and  lonesome  rocks,  and  setting  of  the  sunlight,  are  making  a 
gruesome  coward  of  thee.  Shall  I  go  back  to  my  mother  so, 
and  be  called  her  fearless  boy?  " 

Nevertheless,  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  was  not  any  fine  sense 
of  shame  which  settled  my  decision ;  for  indeed  there  was  nearly 
as  much  of  danger  in  going  back  as  in  going  on,  and  perhaps 
even  more  of  labor,  the  journey  being  so  roundabout.  But  that 
which  saved  me  from  turning  back  was  a  strange  inquisitive 
desire,  very  unbecoming  in  a  boy  of  little  years;  in  a  word,  I 
would  risk  a  great  deal  to  know,  what  made  the  water  come 
down  like  that,  and  what  there  was  at  the  top  of  it. 

Therefore,  seeing  hard  strife  before  me,  I  girt  up  my  breeches 
anew,  with  each  buckle  one  hole  tighter,  for  the  sodden  straps 
were  stretching  and  giving,  and  mayhap  my  legs  were  grown 
smaller  from  the  coldness  of  it.  Then  I  bestowed  my  fish 
around  my  neck  more  tightly,  and  not  stopping  to  look  much, 
for  fear  of  fear,  crawled  along  over  the  fork  of  rocks,  where 
the  water  had  scooped  the  stone  out;  and  shunning  thus  the 
ledge  from  whence  it  rose,  like  the  mane  of  a  white  horse,  into 
the  broad  black  pool,  softly  I  let  my  feet  into  the  dip  and  rush 
of  the  torrent. 

And  here  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host,  although  (as  I 
thought)  so  clever;  and  it  was  much  but  that  I  went  down  into 
the  great  black  pool,  and  had  never  been  heard  of  more ;  and 
this  must  have  been  the  end  of  me,  except  for  my  trusty  loach- 


HAED  IT  IS   TO   CLIMB.  49 

fork.  For  the  green  wave  came  down,  like  great  bottles  upon 
me,  and  my  legs  were  gone  off  in  a  moment,  and  I  had  not  time 
to  crj^  ont  with  wonder,  only  to  think  of  my  mother  and  Annie, 
and  knock  my  head  very  sadly,  which  made  it  go  round  so  that 
brains  were  no  good,  even  if  I  had  any.  But  all  in  a  moment, 
before  I  knew  aught,  except  that  I  must  die  out  of  the  way, 
with  a  roar  of  water  upon  me,  my  fork,  praise  God,  stuck  fast 
in  the  rock,  and  I  was  born  up  upon  it.  I  felt  nothing,  except 
that  here  was  another  matter  to  begin  upon;  and  it  might  be 
worth  while,  or  again  it  might  not,  to  have  another  iight  for 
it.  But  presently  the  dash  of  the  water  upon  my  face  revived 
me,  and  my  mind  grew  used  to  the  roar  of  it;  and  meseemed  I 
had  been  worse  off  than  this,  when  first  flung  into  the  Lowman. 

Therefore  I  gathered  my  legs  back  slowly,  as  if  they  were 
fish  to  be  landed,  stopping  whenever  the  water  flew  too  strongly 
off  my  shin-bones,  and  coming  along,  without  sticking  out  to 
let  the  wave  get  hold  of  me.  And  in  this  manner  I  won  a 
footing,  leaning  well  forward  like  a  draught-horse,  and  balanc- 
ing on  my  strength  as  it  were,  with  the  ashen  stake  set  behind 
me.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  "  John  Ridd,  the  sooner  you  get 
yourself  out  by  the  way  yon  came,  the  better  it  will  be  for  you." 
But  to  my  great  dismay  and  affright,  I  saw  that  no  choice  was 
left  me  now"  except  that  I  must  climb  somehow  up  that  hill  of 
water,  or  else  be  washed  down  into  the  pool,  and  whirl  around 
till  it  drowned  me.  For  there  was  no  chance  of  fetching  back, 
by  the  way  I  had  gone  down  into  it ;  and  further  up  was  a  hedge 
of  rock  on  either  side  of  the  water-way,  rising  a  hundred  yards 
in  height,  and  for  all  I  could  tell  five  hundred,  and  no  place  to 
set  a  foot  in. 

Having  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  (which  was  all  I  knew),  and 
made  a  very  bad  job  of  it,  I  grasped  the  good  loach-stick  under 
a  knot,  and  steadied  me  witli  my  left  hand,  and  so  with  a  sigh 
of  despair  began  my  course  up  the  fearful  torrent-way.  To  me 
it  seemed  half-a-mile  at  least  of  sliding  water  above  me,  but  in 
truth  it  was  little  more  than  a  furlong,  as  I  came  to  know  after- 
wards. It  would  have  been  a  hard  ascent,  even  without  the 
slippery  slime,  and  the  force  of  the  river  over  it,  and  I  had 
scanty  hope  indeed  of  ever  winning  the  summit.  Nevertheless 
my  terror  left  me,  now  I  was  face  to  face  with  it,  and  had  to 
meet  the  worst;  and  I  set  myself  to  do  my  best,  with  a  vigor 
and  sort  of  hardness,  which  did  not  then  surprise  me,  but  have 
done  so  ever  since. 

The  water  was  only  six  inches  de(q),  or  from  that  to  nine  at 
the  utmost,  and  all  the  way  up  I  could  see  my  feet  looking 

VOL.  I.  — 4 


60  LORN  A   BOONE. 

white  in  the  gloom  of  the  holloAV,  and  here  and  there  I  found 
resting-place,  to  hold  on  Ly  the  clift"  and  pant  aAvhile.  And 
gradually  as  I  went  on,  a  warmth  of  courage  breathed  in  me,  to 
think  that  perhaps  no  other  had  dared  to  try  that  pass  before 
me,  and  to  wonder  what  mother  would  say  to  it.  And  then 
came  thought  of  my  father  also,  and  the  pain  of  my  feet  abated. 

How  I  went  carefully,  step  by  step,  keeping  my  arms  in 
front  of  me,  and  never  daring  to  straighten  my  knees,  is  more 
than  I  can  tell  clearly,  or  even  like  now  to  think  of,  because  it 
makes  me  dream  of  it.  Only  I  must  acknowledge,  that  the 
greatest  danger  of  all  was  just  where  I  saw  no  jeopardy,  but 
ran  up  a  patch  of  black  ooze-weed  in  a  very  boastful  manner, 
being  now  not  far  from  the  summit. 

Here  I  fell  very  piteously,  and  was  like  to  have  broken  my 
knee-cap,  and  the  torrent  got  hold  of  my  other  leg,  while  I 
was  indulging  the  bruised  one.  And  then  a  vile  knotting  of 
cramp  disabled  me,  and  for  awhile  I  could  only  roar,  till  my 
mouth  was  full  of  water,  and  all  of  my  body  was  sliding.  But 
the  fright  of  that  brought  me  to  again,  and  my  elbow  caught  in 
a  rock-hole ;  and  so  I  managed  to  start  again,  with  the  help  of 
more  humility. 

Now  being  in  the  most  dreadful  fright,  because  I  was  so  near 
the  top,  and  hope  was  beating  within  me,  I  labored  hard  with 
both  legs  and  arms,  going  like  a  mill,  and  grunting.  At  last 
the  rush  of  forked  water,  where  first  it  came  over  the  lips  of 
the  fall,  drove  me  into  the  middle,  and  I  stuck  awhile  with  my 
toe-balls  on  the  slippery  links  of  the  pop-weed,  and  the  world 
was  green  and  gliddery,  and  I  durst  not  look  behind  me.  Then 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  die  at  last;  for  so  my  legs  would  ache 
no  more,  and  my  breath  not  pain  my  heart  so ;  only  it  did  seem 
such  a  pity,  after  fighting  so  long  to  give  in,  and  the  light  was 
coming  upon  me,  and  again  I  fought  towards  it ;  then  suddenly 
I  felt  fresh  air,  and  fell  into  it  headlong. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    BOY    AND    A    GIRL. 

When  I  came  to  myself  again,  my  hands  were  full  of  young 
grass  and  mould ;  and  a  little  girl  kneeling  at  my  side  was  rub- 
bing my  forehead  tenderly,  with  a  dock-leaf  and  a  handker- 
chief. 


A   BOY  AND  A    GIRL.  51 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  she  whispered  softly,  as  I  opened  my 
eyes  and  looked  at  her;  ''now  you  will  try  to  be  better,  won't 
you  ?  " 

I  had  never  heard  so  sweet  a  sound  as  came  from  between 
her  bright  red  lips,  while  there  she  knelt  and  gazed  at  me; 
neither  had  I  ever  seen  anything  so  beautiful  as  the  large  dark 
eyes  intent  upon  me,  full  of  pity  and  wouder.  And  then, 
my  nature  being  slow,  and  perhaps,  for  that  matter,  heavy, 
I  wandered  with  my  hazy  eyes  down  the  black  shower  of  her 
hair,  as  to  my  jaded  gaze  it  seemed;  and  where  it  fell  on  the 
turf,  among  it  (like  an  early  star)  was  the  first  primrose  of  the 
season.  And  since  that  day,  I  think  of  her,  through  all  the 
rough  storms  of  my  life,  when  I  see  an  early  primrose. 
Perhaps  she  liked  my  countenance;  and  indeed  I  know  she 
did,  because  she  said  so  afterwards ;  although  at  the  time  she 
was  too  young  to  know  what  made  her  take  to  me.  Not  that 
I  had  any  beauty,  or  ever  pretended  to  have  any,  only  a  solid 
healthy  face,  which  many  girls  have  laughed  at. 

Thereupon  I  sate  upright,  with  my  little  trident  still  in  one 
hand,  and  was  much  afraid  to  speak  to  her,  being  conscious 
of  my  country-brogue,  lest  she  should  cease  to  like  me.  But 
she  clapped  her  hands,  and  made  a  trifling  dance  around  my 
back,  and  came  to  me  on  the  other  side,  as  if  I  were  a  great 
plaything. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  she  said,  as  if  she  had  every  right 
to  ask  me;  "and  how  did  you  come  here,  and  what  are  these 
wet  things  in  this  great  bag  ?  " 

"  You  had  better  let  them  alone, "  I  said ;  "  they  are  loaches 
for  my  mother.     But  I  will  give  you  some,  if  you  like." 

"Dear  me,  how  much  you  think  of  them!  Why  they  are 
only  fish.  But  how  your  feet  are  bleeding!  oh,  I  must  tie 
them  up  for  you.  And  no  shoes  nor  stockings!  Is  your 
mother  very  poor,  poor  boy  ?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  being  vexed  at  this;  "we  are  rich  enough  to 
buy  all  this  great  meadow,  if  we  chose;  and  here  my  shoes 
and  stockings  be." 

"Why  they  are  quite  as  wet  as  your  feet;  and  I  ciannot  bear 
to  see  your  feet.  Oh,  please  to  let  me  manage  them ;  I  will 
do  it  very  softly." 

"Oh,  i  don't  think  much  of  tliat,"  I  replied;  "I  shall  i)ut 
some  goose-grease  to  tliem.  But  how  you  are  looking  at  nx^! 
I  never  saw  any  one  like  you  before.  My  name  is  Jolm  Kidd. 
What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"Lorna  Doone,"  she  answered,  in  a  h»\v  voice,  as  if  afraid 


52  LORNA   BOONE. 

of  it,  and  hanging  her  head,  so  that  I  could  see  only  her  fore- 
head and  eyelashes ;  "  if  you  please,  my  name  is  Lorna  Doone; 
and  I  thought  you  must  have  known  it." 

Then  I  stood  up,  and  touched  her  hand,  and  tried  to  make 
her  look  at  me;  but  she  only  turned  away  the  more.  Young 
and  harmless  as  she  was,  her  name  alone  made  guilt  of  her. 
Nevertheless  I  could  not  help  looking  at  her  tenderly,  and  the 
more  when  her  blushes  turned  into  tears,  and  her  tears  to  long, 
low  sobs. 

"  Don't  cry, "  I  said,  ''  whatever  you  do.  I  am  sure  you  have 
never  done  any  harm.  I  will  give  you  all  my  fish,  Lorna,  and 
catch  some  more  for  mother;  only  don't  be  angry  with  me." 

She  flung  her  little  soft  arms  up,  in  the  passion  of  her  tears, 
and  looked  at  me  so  piteously,  that  what  did  I  do  but  kiss  her. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  very  odd  thing,  when  I  came  to  think  of  it, 
because  I  hated  kissing  so,  as  all  honest  boys  must  do.  But 
she  touched  my  heart  with  a  sudden  delight,  like  a  cowslip- 
blossom  (although  there  were  none  to  be  seen  yet)  and  the 
sweetest  flowers  of  spring. 

She  gave  me  no  encouragement,  as  my  mother  in  her  place 
would  have  done;  nay,  she  even  wiped  her  lips  (which 
methought  was  rather  rude  of  her),  and  drew  away,  and 
smoothed  her  dress,  as  if  I  had  used  a  freedom.  Then  I  felt 
my  cheeks  grow  burning  red,  and  I  gazed  at  my  legs  and  was 
sorry.  For  although  she  was  not  at  all  a  proud  child  (at  any 
rate  in  her  countenance),  yet  I  knew  that  she  was  by  birth  a 
thousand  years  in  front  of  me.  They  might  have  taken  and 
trained  me,  or  (which  would  be  more  to  the  purpose)  my  sis- 
ters, until  it  was  time  for  us  to  die,  and  then  have  trained  our 
children  after  us,  for  many  generations ;  yet  never  could  we 
have  gotten  that  look  upon  our  faces,  which  Lorna  Doone  had 
naturally,  as  if  she  had  been  born  to  it. 

Here  was  I,  a  yeoman's  boy,  a  yeoman  every  inch  of  me, 
even  where  I  was  naked ;  and  there  was  she,  a  lady  born,  and 
thoroughly  aware  of  it,  and  dressed  by  people  of  rank  and 
taste,  who  took  pride  in  her  beauty,  and  set  it  to  advantage. 
For  though  her  hair  was  fallen  down,  by  reason  of  her  wild- 
ness,  and  some  of  her  frock  was  touched  with  wet,  where  she 
had  tended  me  so,  behold  her  dress  was  pretty  enough  for  the 
queen  of  all  the  angels!  The  colors  were  bright  and  rich 
indeed,  and  the  substance  very  sumptuous,  yet  simple  and 
free  from  tinsel  stuff,  and  matching  most  harmoniously.  All 
from  her  waist  to  her  neck  was  white,  plaited  in  close  like  a 
curtain,  and  the  dark  soft  weeping  of  her  hair,  and  the  shad- 


A  BOY  AND  A   GIRL.  63 

owy  light  of  her  eyes  (like  a  wood  rayed  through  with  sunset), 
made  it  seem  yet  whiter,  as  if  it  were  done  on  purpose.  As 
for  the  rest,  she  knew  what  it  was,  a  great  deal  better  than  I 
did ;  for  I  never  could  look  far  away  from  her  eyes,  when  they 
were  opened  upon  me. 

Now,  seeing  how  I  heeded  her,  and  feeling  that  I  had  kissed 
her,  although  she  was  such  a  little  girl,  eight  years  old  or 
thereabouts,  she  turned  to  the  stream  in  a  bashful  manner,  and 
began  to  watch  the  water,  and  rubbed  one  leg  against  the  other. 

I  for  my  part,  being  vexed  at  her  behavior  to  me,  took  up 
all  my  things  to  go,  and  made  a  fuss  about  it;  to  let  her  know 
I  was  going.  But  she  did  not  call  me  back  at  all,  as  I  had 
made  sure  she  would  do;  moreover,  I  knew  that  to  try  the 
descent  was  almost  certain  death  to  me,  and  it  looked  as  dark 
as  pitch ;  and  so  at  the  mouth  I  turned  round  again,  and  came 
back  to  her,  and  said,  "Lorna." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  gone, "  she  answered ;  "  why  did 
you  ever  come  here  ?  Do  you  know  Avhat  they  would  do  to 
us,  if  they  found  you  here  with  me  ?  " 

"  Beat  us,  I  dare  say,  very  hard,  or  me  at  least.  They  could 
never  beat  you. " 

"  No.  They  would  kill  us  both  outright,  and  bury  us  here 
by  the  water;  and  the  water  often  tells  me  that  I  must  come 
to  that." 

"  But  what  should  they  kill  me  for  ?  " 

"Because  you  have  found  the  way  up  here,  and  they  never 
could  believe  it.  Now,  please  to  go ;  oh  please  to  go.  They 
will  kill  us  both  in  a  moment.  Yes,  I  like  you  very  much  " 
—  for  I  was  teasing  her  to  say  it  —  "  very  much  indeed,  and 
I  will  call  you  John  Eidd,  if  you  like;  only  please  to  go, 
Jolm.  And  when  your  feet  are  well,  you  know,  you  can  come 
and  tell  me  how  they  are." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Lorna,  I  like  you  very  much  indeed,  nearly 
as  much  as  Annie,  and  a  great  deal  more  than  Lizzie.  And  I 
never  saw  any  one  like  you;  and  I  must  come  back  again  to- 
morrow, and  so  must  you,  to  see  me;  and  1  will  bring  you 
such  a  maun  of  things  —  there  are  apples  still,  and  U  tlirusli 
I  caught  with  only  one  leg  broken,  and  our  dog  lias  just  liad 
puppies  " 

"  Oh  dear,  they  won't  let  me  have  a  dog.  Tliere  is  not  a 
dog  in  the  valley.     They  say  they  are  such  noisy  things  " 

"  Only  put  your  hand  in  mine,  —  what  little  tilings  they  are, 
Lorna!  —  and  I  will  bring  you  the  loveliest  dog;  1  will  show 
you  just  liow  long  he  is." 


54  LORNA   DOONE. 

"  Hush !  "  A  shout  came  down  the  valley ;  and  all  my  heart 
was  trembling,  like  water  after  sunset,  and  Lorna's  face  was 
altered  from  pleasant  play  to  terror.  She  shrank  to  me,  and 
looked  up  at  me,  Avith  such  a  power  of  weakness,  that  I  at  once 
made  up  my  mind,  to  save  her,  or  to  die  witli  her.  A  tingle 
went  through  all  my  bones,  and  I  only  longed  for  my  carbine. 
The  little  girl  took  courage  from  me,  and  put  her  cheek  quite 
close  to  mine. 

"  Come  with  me  down  the  waterfall.  I  can  carry  you  easily ; 
and  mother  will  take  care  of  you." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  as  I  took  her  up:  "I  will  tell  you  what 
to  do.  They  are  only  looking  for  me.  You  see  that  hole, 
that  hole  there  ?  " 

She  pointed  to  a  little  niche  in  the  rock,  which  verged  the 
meadow,  about  fifty  yards  away  from  us.  In  the  fading  of 
the  twilight  I  could  just  descry  it. 

"Yes,  I  see  it;  but  they  will  see  me  crossing  the  grass  to 
get  there." 

"  Look !  look !  "  She  could  hardly  speak.  "  There  is  a  way 
out  from  the  top  of  it ;  they  would  kill  me  if  I  told  it.  Oh, 
here  they  come;  I  can  see  them." 

The  little  maid  turned  as  white  as  the  snow  which  hung  on 
the  rocks  above  her,  and  she  looked  at  the  water,  and  then  at 
me,  and  she  cried,  "Oh  dear!  oh  dear!  "  And  then  she  began 
to  sob  aloud,  being  so  young  and  unready.  But  I  drew  her 
behind  the  withy -bushes,  and  close  down  to  the  water,  where 
it  was  quiet,  and  shelving  deep,  ere  it  came  to  the  lip  of  the 
chasm.  Here  they  could  not  see  either  of  us  from  the  upper 
valley,  and  might  have  sought  a  long  time  for  us,  even  when 
they  came  quite  near,  if  the  trees  had  been  clad  with  their 
summer  clothes.  Luckily  I  had  picked  up  my  fish,  and  taken 
my  three-pronged  fork  away. 

Crouching  in  that  hollow  nest,  as  children  get  together  in 
ever  so  little  compass,  I  saw  a  dozen  fierce  men  come  down, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  not  bearing  any  firearms,  but 
looking  lax  and  jovial,  as  if  they  were  come  from  riding  and  a 
dinner  taken  hungrily.  "Queen,  queen!"  they  were  shout- 
ing, here  and  there,  and  now  and  then :  "  where  the  pest  is  our 
little  queen  gone  ?  " 

"They  always  call  me  'queen,'  and  I  am  to  be  queen  by  and 
by,"  Lorna  whispered  to  me,  with  her  soft  cheek  on  my  rough 
one,  and  her  little  heart  beating  against  me:  "oh,  they  are 
crossing  by  the  timber  there,  and  then  they  are  sure  to 
see  us." 


A  BOT  AND  A   GIRL.  55 

"Stop,"  said  I;  "now  I  see  what  to  do.  I  must  get  into 
the  water,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"To  be  sure,  yes,  away  in  the  meadow  there.  But  how 
bitter  coki  it  will  be  for  you !  " 

She  saw  in  a  moment  the  way  to  do  it,  sooner  than  I  could 
tell  her;  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"Now  mind  you  never  come  again,"  she  whispered  over 
her  shoulder,  as  she  crept  away  with  a  childish  twist,  hiding 
her  white  front  from  me;  "only  I  shall  come  sometimes  — 
oh,  here  tliey  are.  Madonna !  " 

Daring  scarce  to  peep,  I  crept  into  the  water,  and  lay  down 
bodily  in  it,  with  my  head  between  two  blocks  of  stone,  and 
some  flood-drift  combing  over  me.  The  dusk  was  deepening 
between  the  hills,  and  a  white  mist  lay  on  the  river;  but  I, 
being  in  the  channel  of  it,  could  see  every  ripple,  and  tAvig, 
and  rush,  and  glazing  of  twilight  above  it,  as  bright  as  in  a 
picture;  so  that  to  my  ignorance  tliere  seemed  to  be  no  chance 
at  all,  but  that  the  men  must  lind  me.  For  all  this  time,  they 
were  shouting,  and  swearing,  and  keeping  such  a  hallabaloo, 
that  the  rocks  all  round  the  valley  rang ;  and  my  heart  quaked, 
so  (what  with  this  and  the  cold)  that  the  water  began  to  gur- 
gle round  me,  and  lap  upon  the  pebbles. 

Neither  in  truth  did  I  try  to  stop  it,  being  now  so  desperate, 
between  the  fear  and  the  wretchedness ;  till  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  little  maid,  whose  beauty  and  whose  kindliness  had 
made  me  yearn  to  be  with  her.  And  then  I  knew  that  for  her 
sake  I  was  bound  to  be  brave,  and  hide  myself.  She  was 
lying  beneath  a  rock,  thirty  or  forty  yards  from  me,  feign- 
ing to  be  fast  asleep,  with  her  dress  spread  beautifully,  and 
her  hair  drawn  over  her. 

Presently  one  of  the  great  rough  men  came  round  a  corner 
upon  her;  and  there  he  stopped,  and  gazed  awliile  at  her  fair- 
ness and  her  innocence.  Then  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  so  that  I  heard  him;  and  if  I  had  only  brought 
my  gun,  I  would  have  tried  to  shoot  him. 

"Here  our  queen  is!  Here's  the  queen,  here's  the  captain's 
daughter!  "  he  shouted  to  his  comrades;  "fast  asleep,  by  God, 
and  hearty!  Now  f  have  first  claim  to  her;  and  no  one  else 
sliall  touch  tlie  child.     Back  to  tlie  bottle,  all  of  you!  " 

He  set  her  dainty  little  form  upon  his  great  square  shoulder, 
and  her  narr(jw  ieet  in  one  broad  hand;  aud  so  in  triumph 
marclied  away,  with  tlKipurpht  vcdvet  of  her  skirt  ndliing  in  his 
long  black  beard,  and  the  silken  hingth  of  her  hair  fetclied  out, 
like  a  cloud  by  the  wind,  behind  her.     This  way  of  her  going 


56  LOBNA   BOONE. 

vexed  me  so,  that  I  leaped  upright  in  the  water,  and  must 
have  been  spied  by  some  of  them,  but  for  their  haste  to  the 
wine-bottle.  Of  their  little  queen  they  took  small  notice, 
being  in  this  urgency,  although  they  had  thought  to  find  her 
drowned;  but  trooped  away,  one  after  another,  with  kindly 
challenge  to  gambling,  so  far  as  I  could  make  them  out;  and 
I  kept  sharp  watch,  I  assure  you. 

Going  up  that  darkened  glen,  little  Lorua,  riding  still  the 
largest  and  most  fierce  of  them,  turned  and  put  up  a  hand  to 
me ;  and  I  put  up  a  hand  to  her,  in  the  thick  of  the  mist  and 
the  willows. 

She  was  gone,  my  little  dear  (though  tall  of  her  age  and 
healthy);  and  when  I  got  over  my  thriftless  fright,  I  longed 
to  have  more  to  say  to  her.  Her  voice  to  me  was  so  different 
from  all  I  had  ever  heard  before,  as  might  be  a  sweet  silver 
bell,  intoned  to  the  small  chords  of  a  harp.  But  I  had  no  time 
to  think  about  this,  if  I  hoped  to  have  any  supper. 

I  crept  into  a  bush  for  warmth,  and  rubbed  my  shivering 
legs  on  bark,  and  longed  for  mother's  fagot.  Then,  as  day- 
light sank  below  the  forget-me-not  of  stars,  with  a  sorrow  to 
be  quit,  I  knew  that  now  must  be  my  time  to  get  away,  if 
there  were  any. 

Therefore,  wringing  my  sodden  breeches,  I  managed  to 
crawl  from  the  bank  to  the  niche  in  the  cliff,  which  Lorna  had 
shown  me. 

Through  the  dusk,  I  had  trouble  to  see  the  mouth,  at  even 
five  landyards  of  distance;  nevertheless  I  entered  well,  and 
held  on  by  some  dead  fern-stems,  and  did  hope  that  no  one 
would  shoot  me. 

But  while  I  was  hugging  myself  like  this,  with  a  boyish  man- 
ner of  reasoning,  my  joy  was  like  to  have  ended  in  sad  grief, 
both  to  myself  and  my  mother,  and  haply  to  all  honest  folk 
who  shall  love  to  read  this  history.  For  hearing  a  noise  in 
front  of  me,  and  like  a  coward  not  knowing  where,  but  afraid 
to  turn  round  or  think  of  it,  I  felt  myself  going  down  some 
deep  passage,  into  a  pit  of  darkness.  It  was  no  good  to  catch 
the  sides,  for  the  whole  thing  seemed  to  go  with  me.  Then, 
without  knowing  how,  I  was  leaning  over  a  night  of  water. 

This  water  was  of  black  radiance,  as  are  certain  diamonds, 
spanned  across  with  vaults  of  rock,  and  carrying  no  image, 
neither  showing  marge  nor  end,  but  centred  (as  it  might  be) 
with  a  bottomless  indrawal. 

With  that  chill  and  dread  upon  me,  and  the  sheer  rock  all 
around,  and  the  faint  light  heaving  wavily  on  the  silence  of 


THEEE  IS  A^O  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  57 

this  gulf,  I  must  have  lost  my  wits,  and  gone  to  the  bottom, 
if  there  were  any. 

But  suddenly  a  robin  sang  (as  they  will  do  after  dark, 
towards  spring)  in  the  brown  fern  and  ivy  behind  me.  I  took 
it  for  our  little  Annie's  voice  (for  slie  could  call  any  robin), 
and  gathering  quick  warm  comfort,  sprang  up  the  steep  way 
towards  the  starlight.  Climbing  back,  as  the  stones  glid 
down,  I  heard  the  cold  greedy  wave  go  lapping,  like  a  blind 
black  dog,  into  the  distance  of  arches,  and  hollow  depths  of 
darkness. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THERK    IS    NO    PLACE    LIKE    HOME. 

I  CAN  assure  you,  and  tell  no  lie  (as  John  Fry  always  used 
to  sa}^,  when  telling  his  very  largest),  that  I  scrambled  back 
to  the  mouth  of  that  pit,  as  if  the  evil  one  had  been  after  me. 
And  sorely  I  repented  now  of  all  my  boyish  folly,  or  madness 
it  might  well  be  termed,  in  venturing,  with  none  to  help,  and 
nothing  to  compel  me,  into  that  accursed  valley.  Once  let  me 
get  out,  thinks  I;  and  if  ever  I  get  in  again,  Avithout  being 
cast  in  by  neck  and  by  crop,  I  will  give  our  new-born  donkey 
leave  to  set  up  for  my  schoolmaster. 

How  I  kept  that  resolution,  we  shall  see  hereafter.  It  is 
enough  for  me  now  to  tell,  hoAv  I  escaped  from  the  den  that 
uiglit.  First  I  sat  down  in  the  little  opening,  which  Lorna 
had  pointed  out  to  me,  and  wondered  whether  she  had  meant 
(as  bitterly  occurred  to  me)  that  I  should  run  down  into  the 
pit,  and  be  drowned,  and  give  no  more  trouble.  I>ut  in  less 
than  half  a  minute,  I  was  ashamed  of  that  idea,  and  remem- 
bered how  she  was  vexed  to  think  that  even  a  loach  should 
lose  his  life.  And  then  I  said  to  myself,  "Now  surely,  she 
would  value  me  more  than  a  thousand  loaches;  and  what  she 
said  must  be  quite  true,  about  the  way  out  of  this  horrible 
jdace." 

Therefore  I  began  to  searcli  with  the  utmost  care  and  dili- 
gence, althougli  my  teeth  were  chattering,  and  all  my  bones 
beginning  to  ache,  with  the  chilliness  and  the  wetness.  J^>e- 
fore  very  long  tlie  moon  ap])eared,  over  the  edge  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  among  tiie  trees  at  the;  toj)  of  it;  and  then  I  (>si»ie(l 
rough  steps,   and  rocky,   made  as  if  with  a  sledge-liammer, 


58  LOENA   BOONE. 

narrow,  steep,  and  far  asunder,  scooped  here  and  there  in  the 
side  of  the  entrance,  and  then  round  a  bulge  of  the  cliff,  like 
the  marks  upon  a  great  brown  loaf,  where  a  hungry  child  has 
picked  at  it.  And  higher  up,  where  the  light  of  the  moon 
shone  broader  upon  the  precipice,  there  seemed  to  be  a  rude 
broken  track,  like  the  shadow  of  a  crooked  stick  thrown  upon 
a  house-wall. 

Herein  was  small  encouragement ;  and  at  first  I  was  minded 
to  lie  down  and  die;  but  it  seemed  to  come  amiss  to  me. 
God  has  his  time  for  all  of  us;  but  he  seems  to  advertise  us, 
when  He  does  not  mean  to  do  it.  Moreover,  I  saw  a  movement 
of  lights  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  as  if  lanthorns  were  com- 
ing after  me ;  and  tlie  nimbleness  given  thereon  to  my  heels 
was  in  front  of  all  meditation. 

Straightway,  I  set  foot  in  the  lowest  stirrup  (as  I  might 
almost  call  it),  and  clung  to  the  rock  with  my  nails,  and 
worked  to  make  a  jump  into  the  second  stirrup.  And  I  com- 
passed that  too,  with  the  aid  of  my  stick ;  although,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  was  not  at  that  time  of  life  so  agile  as  boys  of 
smaller  frame  are ;  for  my  size  was  growing  beyond  my  years, 
and  the  muscles  not  keeping  time  with  it,  and  the  joints  of 
my  bones  not  closely  hinged,  with  staring  at  one  another. 
But  the  third  step-hole  was  the  hardest  of  all,  and  the  rock 
swelled  out  on  me  over  my  breast,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no 
attempting  it,  until  I  espied  a  good  stout  rope  hanging  in  a 
groove  of  shadow,  and  just  managed  to  reach  the  end  of  it. 

How  I  clomb  up,  and  across  the  clearing,  and  found  my 
way  home  through  the  Bagworthy  forest,  is  more  than  I  can 
remember  now,  for  I  took  all  the  rest  of  it  then  as  a  dream, 
by  reason  of  perfect  weariness.  And  indeed  it  was  quite  be- 
yond my  hopes  to  tell  so  much  as  I  have  told;  for  at  first 
beginning  to  set  it  down,  it  was  all  like  a  mist  before  me. 
Nevertheless  some  parts  grew  clearer,  as  one  by  one  I  remem- 
bered them,  having  taken  a  little  soft  cordial,  because  the 
memory  frightens  me. 

For  the  toil  of  the  water,  and  danger  of  laboring  up  the  long 
cascade,  or  rapids,  and  then  the  surprise  of  the  fair  young 
maid,  and  terror  of  the  murderers,  and  desperation  of  getting 
away  —  all  these  are  much  to  me  even  now,  when  I  am  a  stout 
churchwarden,  and  sit  by  the  side  of  my  fire,  after  going 
through  many  far  worse  adventures,  which  I  will  tell,  God  will- 
ing. Only  the  labor  of  writing  is  such  (especially  so  as  to 
construe,  and  challenge  a  reader  on  parts  of  speech,  and  hope 
to  be  even  with  him) ;  that  by  this  pipe  which  I  hold  in  my 


THERE  IS  NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  59 

hand,  I  ever  expect  to  be  beaten,  as  in  the  days  when  old 
Doctor  Twiggs,  if  I  made  a  bad  stroke  in  my  exercise,  shouted 
aloud  with  a  sour  joy,  "John  Eidd,  sirrah,  down  with  your 
smallclothes !  " 

Let  that  be  as  it  may,  I  deserved  a  good  beating  that  night, 
after  making  such  a  fool  of  myself,  and  grinding  good  fustian 
to  pieces.  But  when  I  got  home,  all  the  supper  was  in,  and 
the  men  sitting  at  the  white  table,  and  mother,  and  Annie, 
and  Lizzie  near  by,  all  eager,  and  offering  to  begin  (except, 
indeed  my  mother,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  doorway),  and 
by  the  fire  was  Betty  Muxworthy,  scolding,  and  cooking,  and 
tasting  her  work,  all  in  a  breath,  as  a  man  would  say.  I 
looked  through  the  door  from  the  dark  by  the  wood-stack,  and 
was  half  of  a  mind  to  stay  out,  like  a  dog,  for  fear  of  the  rat- 
ing and  reckoning;  but  the  way  my  dear  mother  was  looking 
about,  and  the  browning  of  the  sausages,  got  the  better  of  me. 

But  nobody  could  get  out  of  me,  where  I  had  spent  all  the 
day  and  evening;  although  they  worried  me  never  so  much, 
and  longed  to  shake  me  to  pieces;  especially  Betty  jNIux- 
worthy,  who  never  could  learn  to  let  well  alone.  Not  that 
they  made  me  tell  any  lies,  although  it  would  have  served 
them  right  almost  for  intruding  on  other  people's  business; 
but  that  I  just  held  my  tongue,  and  ate  my  supper  rarely,  and 
let  them  try  their  taunts  and  jibes,  and  drove  them  almost 
wild  after  supper,  by  smiling  exceeding  knowingly.  And 
indeed  I  could  have  told  them  things,  as  I  hinted  once  or 
twice;  and  then  poor  Betty,  and  our  little  Lizzie,  were  so 
mad  with  eagerness,  that  between  them  I  went  into  the  fire, 
being  thoroughly  overcome  with  laughter,  and  my  own  impor- 
tance. 

Now  what  the  working  of  my  mind  was  (if  indeed  it  worked 
at  all,  and  did  not  rather  follow  suit  of  body)  it  is  not  in  my 
power  to  say;  only  that  the  result  of  my  adventure  in  the 
Doone  Glen  was  to  make  me  dream  a  good  deal  of  nights,  which 
I  had  never  done  much  before,  and  to  drive  me,  with  tenfold 
zeal  and  purpose,  to  the  practice  of  bullet-shooting.  Not  that 
I  ever  expected  to  shoot  all  the  Doone  family,  one  by  one,  or 
even  desired  to  do  so,  for  my  nature  is  not  revengeful;  l)ut  that 
it  seemed  to  be  somehow  my  business  to  understand  the  gun, 
as  a  thing  I  must  be  at  home  with. 

I  could  liit  the  barn-door  now  capitally  well,  Avitli  the  Span- 
ish match-lock,  and  even  with  John  Fry's  blunderbuss,  at  ten 
good  landyards  distance,  witliout  any  rest  for  my  fusil.  And 
what  was  very  wrong  of  me,  though  I  did  not  see  it  then,  I  kept 


60  LORN  A   BOONE. 

John  Fry  there,  to  praise  my  shots,  from  dinner-time  often 
until  the  gray  dusk,  while  he  all  the  time  should  have  been  at 
work,  spring-ploughing  upon  the  farm.  And  for  that  matter, 
so  should  I  have  been,  or  at  any  rate  driving  the  horses;  but 
John  was  by  no  means  loth  to  be  there,  instead  of  holding  the 
plough-tail.     And  indeed  one  of  our  old  sayings  is  — 

"For  pleasure's  sake  I  would  liefer  wet, 
Than  ha'  ten  lumps  of  gold  for  each  one  of  my  sweat." 

And  again,  which  is  not  a  bad  proverb,  though  unthrifty, 
and  unlike  a  Scotchman's  — 

"  God  makes  the  wheat  grow  greener, 
While  farmer  be  at  his  dinner. ' ' 

And  no  Devonshire  man,  or  Somerset  either  (and  I  belong 
to  both  of  them),  ever  thinks  of  working  harder  than  his 
Maker  meant  for  him. 

Nevertheless  I  worked  hard  at  the  gun,  and  by  the  time 
that  I  had  sent  all  the  church-roof  gutters,  so  far  as  I  hon- 
estly could  cut  them,  through  the  red  pine-door,  I  began  to 
long  for  a  better  tool,  that  would  make  less  noise  and  throw 
straighter.  But  the  sheep-shearing  came,  and  the  hay  season 
next,  and  then  the  harvest  of  small  corn,  and  the  digging  of 
the  root  called  "  batata  "  (a  new  but  good  thing  in  our  neigh- 
borhood, which  our  folk  have  turned  into  "taties"),  and  then 
the  sweating  of  the  apples,  and  the  turning  of  the  cider-press, 
and  the  stacking  of  the  fire-wood,  and  netting  of  the  wood- 
cocks, and  the  springles  to  be  minded,  in  the  garden,  and  by 
the  hedgerows,  where  blackbirds  hop  to  the  molehills  in  the 
white  October  mornings,  and  gray  birds  come  to  look  for 
snails,  at  the  time  when  the  sun  is  rising. 

It  is  wonderful  how  time  runs  away,  when  all  these  things, 
and  a  great  many  others,  come  in  to  load  him  down  the  hill, 
and  prevent  him  from  stopping  to  look  about.  And  I  for  my 
part  can  never  conceive  how  people  who  live  in  towns  and 
cities,  where  neither  lambs  nor  birds  are  (except  in  some  shop 
windows),  nor  growing  corn,  nor  meadow-grass,  nor  even  so 
much  as  a  stick  to  cut,  or  a  stile  to  climb  and  sit  down  upon, 
—  how  these  poor  folk  get  through  their  lives,  without  being 
utterly  weary  of  them,  and  dying  from  pure  indolence,  is  a 
thing  God  only  knows,  if  His  mercy  allows  Him  to  think 
of  it. 

How  the  year  went  by,  I  know  notj  only  that  I  was  abroad 


THERE  IS  iVO   PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  61 

all  day,  shooting,  or  fishing,  or  minding  the  farm,  or  riding 
after  some  stray  beast,  or  away  by  the  sea-side  below  Glen- 
thorne,  wondering  at  the  great  waters,  and  resohdng  to  go  for 
a  sailor.  For  in  those  days,  I  had  a  firm  belief,  as  many 
other  strong  boys  have,  of  being  born  for  a  seaman.  And 
indeed  I  had  been  in  a  boat  nearly  twice ;  but  the  second  time 
mother  found  it  out,  and  came  and  drew  me  back  again ;  and 
after  that  she  cried  so  badly,  that  I  was  forced  to  give  my 
word  to  her,  to  go  no  more  without  telling  her. 

But  Betty  Muxworthy  spoke  her  mind  quite  in  a  different 
way  about  it,  the  while  she  was  wringing  my  hoseu,  and  clat- 
tering to  the  drying-horse. 

"Zailor,  ees  fai!  ay,  and  zarve  un  raight.  Her  can't  kape 
out  o'  the  watter  here,  whur  a'  must  goo  vor  to  vaind  un,  zame 
as  a  gurt  to-ad  squalloping,  and  mux  up,  till  I  be  wore  out,  I 
be,  wi'  the  very  saight  of  's  braiches.  How  wil  un  ever  baide 
aboard  zhip,  wi'  the  Avatter  zinging  out  under  un,  and  comin' 
up  splash  when  the  wind  blow.  Latt  un  goo,  missus,  latt  un 
goo,  zay  I  for  wan,  and  old  Davy  wash  his  clouts  for  un." 

Now  this  discourse  of  Betty's  tended  more  than  my 
mother's  prayers,  I  fear,  to  keep  me  from  going.  For  I  hated 
Betty  in  those  days,  as  children  always  hate  a  cross  servant, 
and  often  get  fond  of  a  false  one.  But  Betty,  like  many  act- 
ive women,  was  false  by  her  crossness  only;  thinking  it  just 
for  the  moment  perhaps,  and  rushing  away  with  a  bucket; 
ready  to  stick  to  it,  like  a  clenched  nail,  if  beaten  the  wrong 
way  with  argument;  but  melting  over  it,  if  j'ou  left  her,  as 
stinging  soap,  left  alone  in  a  basin,  spreads  all  abroad  with- 
out bubl)ling. 

But  all  this  is  beyond  the  children,  and  beyond  me  too  for 
that  matter,  even  now  in  ripe  experience;  for  I  never  did 
know  what  women  mean,  and  never  shall,  unless  they  tell  me, 
whenever  it  is  in  their  power.  Better  to  let  that  question 
pass.  For  although  I  am  now  in  a  ])lace  of  some  authority,  I 
have  observed  that  no  one  ever  listens  to  me,  when  I  attempt 
to  lay  down  the  law;  but  all  are  waiting  with  open  ears,  until 
I  do  enforce  it.  And  so,  methinks,  lie  who  reads  a  history 
cares  not  much  for  the  wisdom  or  folly  of  the  writer  (know- 
ing well  that  the  former  is  far  less  than  his  own,  and  th(^  latter 
vastly  greater),  but  hurries  to  know  what  the  people  did,  and 
how  they  got  on  about  it.  And  this  I  can  tell,  if  any  one  can, 
having  been  myself  in  the  thick  of  it. 

The  fright  I  Iiad  taken  tliat  niglit,  in  (ilcn  Doono,  satisfied 
me  for  a  long  tiuK^  tliereafter;  and  1  took  good  care  not  to 


62  LORNA    BOONE. 

venture  even  in  the  fields,  and  woods  of  the  outer  farm,  with- 
out Jolm  Fry  for  company.  John  was  greatly  surprised,  and 
pleased,  at  the  value  I  now  set  upon  him ;  until,  what  betwixt 
the  desire  to  vaunt,  and  the  longing  to  talk  things  over,  I 
gradually  laid  bare  to  him  nearly  all  that  had  befallen  me; 
except,  indeed,  about  Lorna,  whom  a  sort  of  shame  kept  me 
from  mentioning.  Not  that  I  did  not  think  of  her,  and  wish 
very  often  to  see  her  again ;  but  of  course  I  was  only  a  boy 
as  yet,  and  therefore  inclined  to  despise  young  girls,  as  being 
unable  to  do  anything,  and  only  meant  to  listen  to  orders. 
And  wlien  I  got  along  with  the  other  boys,  that  was  how  we 
alv/ays  spoke  of  them,  if  we  deigned  to  speak  at  all,  as  creat- 
ures of  a  lower  ordei',  only  good  enough  to  run  errands  for  us, 
and  to  nurse  boy-babies. 

And  yet  my  sister  Annie  was,  in  truth,  a  great  deal  more 
to  me  than  all  the  boys  of  the  parish,  and  of  Brendon,  and 
Countisbury,  put  together;  although  at  the  time  I  never 
dreamed  it,  and  would  have  laughed  if  told  so.  Annie  was  of 
a  pleasing  face,  and  very  gentle  manner,  almost  like  a  lady, 
some  people  said;  but  without  any  airs  wliatever,  only  trying 
to  give  satisfaction.  And  if  she  failed,  she  would  go  and 
weep,  without  letting  any  one  know  it,  believing  the  fault  to 
be  all  her  own,  when  mostly  it  was  of  others.  But  if  she 
succeeded  in  pleasing  you,  it  was  beautiful  to  see  her  smile, 
and  stroke  her  soft  chin  in  a  way  of  her  own,  which  she 
always  used,  when  taking  note  how  to  do  the  right  thing  again 
for  you.  And  then  her  cheeks  had  a  bright  clear  pink,  and 
her  eyes  were  as  blue  as  the  sky  in  spring,  and  she  stood  as 
upright  as  a  young  apple-tree,  and  no  one  could  help  but  smile 
at  her,  and  pat  her  brown  curls  approvingly;  wliereupon  she 
always  courteseyed.  For  she  never  tried  to  look  away,  when 
honest  people  gazed  at  her;  and  even  in  the  court-yard,  she 
would  come  and  help  to  take  your  saddle,  and  tell  (without 
your  asking  her)  what  there  was  for  dinner. 

And  afterwards  she  grew  up  to  be  a  very  comely  maiden, 
tall,  and  with  a  well-built  neck,  and  very  fair  white  shoul- 
ders, under  a  bright  cloud  of  curling  hair.  Alas!  poor  Annie, 
like  most  of  the  gentle  maidens  —  but  tush,  I  am  not  come  to 
that  yet ;  and  for  the  present  she  seemed  to  me  little  to  look 
at,  after  the  beauty  of  Lorna  Doone. 


A  BBAVE  EESCUE  AND  A   ROUGU  HIDE.  63 

CHAPTER   X. 

A    BRAVE    RESCUE    AND    A    ROUGH    RIDE. 

It  liappened  upon  a  November  evening  (wlien  I  was  about 
fifteen  years  old,  and  out-groAving  my  strength  very  rapidly, 
my  sister  Annie  being  turned  thirteen,  and  a  deal  of  rain  hav- 
ing fallen,  and  all  the  troughs  in  the  yard  being  flooded,  and 
the  bark  from  the  wood-rieks  ■washed  down  the  gutters,  and 
even  our  water-shoot  going  brown)  that  the  ducks  in  the 
court  made  a  terrible  quacking,  instead  of  marching  off  to  their 
pen,  one  behind  another.  Thereupon  Annie  and  I  ran  out,  to 
see  what  might  be  the  sense  of  it.  Tliere  were  thirteen  ducks, 
and  ten  lily-white  (as  the  fashion  then  of  ducks  Avas),  not  I 
mean  twenty-three  in  all,  but  ten  white  and  three  broAvn- 
striped  ones ;  and  Avithout  being  nice  about  their  color,  they 
all  quacked  very  movingly.  They  pushed  their  gold-colored 
bills  here  and  there  (yet  dirty,  as  gold  is  apt  to  be),  and  they 
jumped  on  the  triangles  of  their  feet,  and  sounded  out  of  their 
nostrils ;  and  some  of  the  over-excited  ones  ran  along  Ioav  on 
the  ground,  quacking  grievously,  Avith  their  bills  snapping  and 
bending,  and  the  roof  of  their  mouths  exhibited. 

Annie  began  to  cry  "  dilly,  dilly,  einy,  einy ,  ducksey , "  ac- 
cording to  the  burden  of  a  tune  they  seem  to  have  accepted  as 
the  national  duck's  anthem ;  but  instead  of  being  soothed  by  it, 
they  only  quacked  three  times  as  hard,  and  ra,n  round,  till  Ave 
Avere  giddy.  And  then  they  shook  their  tails  altogether,  and 
looked  grave,  and  Avent  round  and  round  again.  Noav  I  am 
uncommonly  fond  of  ducks,  AAdiether  roystering,  roosting,  or 
roasted;  and  it  is  a  fine  sight  to  behold  them  Avalk,  poddling 
one  after  other,  Avith  their  toes  out,  like  soldiers  drilling,  and 
their  little  eyes  cocked  all  ways  at  once,  and  the  Avay  that  they 
dib  Avith  their  bills,  and  dal)ble,  and  tlirow  up  their  heads  and 
enjoy  something,  and  then  t(dl  the  others  about  it.  Therel'on; 
I  knew  at  once,  by  the  way  they  were  carrying  on,  that  tlu  re 
must  be  sometliing  or  other  gone  Avholly  amiss  in  tlie  duck- 
Avorld.  Sister  Annie  perceived  it  too,  but  Avith  a  greater  quick- 
ness; for  she  counted  them  like  a  good  duck-Avife,  and  could 
only  tell  thirteen  of  them,  Avhen  she  kncAV  there  ouglit  to  b(^ 
fourteen. 

And  so  we  began  to  search  about,  and  the  ducks  ran  to  lead 
us  aright,  having  come  that  far  to  fetch  us;  and  wlim  we  got 


64  LORNA   BOONE. 

down  to  the  foot  of  the  court -yard  where  the  two  great  ash-trees 
stand  by  the  side  of  the  little  water,  we  found  good  reason  for 
the  urgence  and  melancholy  of  the  duck-birds.  Lo !  the  old 
white  drake,  the  father  of  all,  a  bird  of  high  manners  and 
chivalry,  always  the  last  to  help  himself  from  the  pan  of  barley- 
meal,  and  the  hrst  to  show  tight  to  a  dog  or  cock  intruding 
upon  his  family,  this  fine  fellow,  and  pillar  of  the  state,  was 
now  in  a  sad  predicament,  yet  quacking  very  stoutly.  For  the 
brook,  wherewith  he  had  been  familiar  from  his  calloAV  child- 
hood, and  wherein  he  Avas  wont  to  quest  for  water-newts,  and 
tadpoles,  and  caddis-worms,  and  other  game,  this  brook,  which 
afforded  him  very  often  scanty  space  to  dabble  in,  and  some- 
times starved  the  cresses,  was  now  coming  down  in  a  great 
brown  flood,  as  if  the  banks  never  belonged  to  it.  The  foam- 
ing of  it,  and  the  noise,  and  the  cresting  of  the  corners,  and 
the  up  and  down,  like  a  wave  of  the  sea,  were  enough  to  frighten 
any  duck,  though  bred  upon  stormy  waters,  which  our  ducks 
never  had  been. 

There  is  always  a  hurdle,  nine  feet  long,  and  four  and  a  half 
in  depth,  swung  by  a  chain  at  either  end  from  an  oak  laid  across 
the  channel.  And  the  use  of  this  Imrdle  is  to  keep  our  kine 
at  milking  time  from  straying  away  there  drinking  (for  in  truth 
they  are  very  dainty)  and  to  fence  strange  cattle,  or  Farmer 
Snowe's  horses,  from  coming  along  the  bed  of  the  brook 
unknown,  to  steal  our  substance.  But  now  this  hurdle,  which 
hung  in  the  summer  a  foot  above  the  trickle,  would  have  been 
dipped  more  than  two  feet  deep,  but  for  the  power  against  it. 
For  the  torrent  came  down  so  vehemently  that  the  chains  at 
full  stretch  were  creaking,  and  the  hurdle,  buffeted  almost  flat, 
and  thatched  (so  to  say)  with  the  drift-stuff,  was  going  see-saw 
with  a  sulky  splash  on  the  dirty  red  comb  of  the  waters.  But 
saddest  to  see  was  between  two  bars,  where  a  fog  was  of  rushes, 
and  floodwood,  and  wild  celery-haulm,  and  dead  crowsfoot,  who 
but  our  venerable  mallard,  jammed  in  by  the  joint  of  his  shoul- 
der, speaking  aloud  as  he  rose  and  fell,  with  his  top-knot  full 
of  water,  unable  to  comprehend  it,  with  his  tail  washed  far 
away  from  lam,  but  often  compelled  to  be  silent,  being  ducked 
very  harshly  against  his  Avill  by  the  choking  fall-to  of  the 
hurdle. 

For  a  moment  I  could  scarce  help  laughing;  because,  being 
borne  up  high  and  dry  by  a  tumiilt  of  the  torrent,  he  gave  me 
a  look  from  his  one  little  eye  (having  lost  one  in  fight  with  the 
turkey-cock),  a  gaze  of  appealing  sorrow,  and  then  a  loud 
quack  to  second  it.     But  the  quack  came  out  of  time,  I  sup- 


A   BRAVE  RESCUE  AND  A   ROUGH  RIDE.  {J5 

pose,  for  his  throat  got  filled  with  water,  as  the  hurdle  carried 
him  back  again.  And  then  tliere  was  scarcely  the  screw  of  his 
tail  to  be  seen  until  he  swung  up  again,  and  left  small  doubt 
by  the  way  he  spluttered,  and  failed  to  quack,  and  hung  down 
his  poor  crest,  but  that  drown  he  must  in  another  minute,  and 
frogs  triumph  over  his  body. 

Annie  was  crying,  and  wringing  her  hands,  and  I  was  about 
to  rush  into  the  water,  although  I  liked  not  the  look  of  it,  but 
hoped  to  hold  on  by  the  hurdle,  when  a  man  on  horseback  came 
suddenly  round  the  corner  of  the  great  ash-hedge  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stream,  and  his  horse's  feet  were  in  the  water. 

"Ho,  there,"  he  cried;  "get  thee  back,  boy.  The  flood  will 
carry  thee  down  like  a  straw.  I  will  do  it  for  thee,  and  no 
trouble." 

With  that  he  leaned  forward,  and  spoke  to  liis  mare  —  she 
was  just  of  the  tint  of  a  strawberry,  a  young  thing,  very  beau- 
tiful—  and  she  arched  up  her  neck,  as  misliking  the  job;  yet, 
trusting  him,  would  attempt  it.  She  entered  the  flood,  with 
her  dainty  fore-legs  sloped  further  and  further  in  front  of  her, 
and  her  delicate  ears  pricked  forward,  and  the  size  of  her  great 
eyes  increasing;  but  he  kept  her  straight  in  the  turbid  rush, 
by  the  pressure  of  his  knee  on  her.  Then  she  looked  back, 
and  wondered  at  him,  as  the  force  of  the  torrent  grew  stronger, 
but  he  bade  her  go  on ;  and  on  she  went,  and  it  foamed  up  over 
her  shoulders ;  and  she  tossed  up  her  lip  and  scorned  it,  for 
now  her  courage  was  waking.  Then  as  the  rush  of  it  swept 
her  away,  and  she  struck  with  her  fore-feet  down  the  stream, 
he  leaned,  from  his  saddle,  in  a  manner  which  I  never  could 
have  thought  ]iossil)lp,  and  caught  up  old  Toju  with  liis  left 
hand,  and  set  him  between  his  holsters,  and  smiled  at  his  faint 
quack  of  gratitude.  In  a  moment  all  three  were  carried  down- 
stream, and  the  rider  lay  fiat  on  his  horse,  and  tossed  the 
hurdle  clear  from  him,  and  made  for  the  bend  of  smooth  water. 

Tliey  landed,  some  thirty  or  forty  yards  lower,  in  the  midst 
of  our  kitchen-garden,  where  the  winter-cabbage  was;  but 
though  Annie  and  I  crept  in  through  the  hedge,  and  were  full 
of  our  thanks,  and  admiring  liim,  lie  wouhl  answer  us  never  a 
word,  until  he  had  spoken  in  full  to  the  mare,  as  if  explaining 
the  whole  to  her. 

"Sweetheart,  I  know  thou  could'st  have  leay)ed  it,"  he  said, 
as  he  patted  her  cheek,  being  on  the  ground  by  this  time,  and 
she  was  nudging  up  to  him,  witli  the;  water  ])atteriiig  off  from 
her;  "  Ijut  I  liad  good  reason,  Winnie  dear,  for  making  tliee  go 
through  it." 
vol..  I.  —  5 


QQ  LOBNA   BOONE. 

She  answered  him  kindly  with  her  soft  eyes,  and  sniffed  at 
him  very  lovingly,  and  they  understood  one  another.  Then 
he  took  from  his  waistcoat  two  pepper-corns,  and  made  the  old 
drake  swallow  them,  and  tried  him  softly  upon  his  legs,  where 
the  leading  gap  in  the  hedge  was.  Old  Tom  stood  up  quite 
bravely,  and  clapped  his  wings,  and  shook  off  the  wet  from  his 
tail-feathers ;  and  then  away  into  the  court-yard,  and  his  family 
gathered  around  him,  and  they  all  made  a  noise  in  their  throats, 
and  stood  up,  and  put  their  bills  together,  to  thank  God  for 
this  great  deliverance. 

Having  taken  all  this  trouble,  and  w^atched  the  end  of  that 
adventure,  the  gentleman  turned  round  to  us,  with  a  pleasant 
smile  on  his  face,  as  if  he  were  lightly  amused  with  himself; 
and  we  came  up  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  rather  short, 
about  John  Fry's  height,  or  may  be  a  little  taller,  but  very 
strongly  built  and  springy,  as  his  gait  at  every  step  showed 
plainly,  although  his  legs  were  bowed  with  much  riding,  and 
he  looked  as  if  he  lived  on  horseback.  To  a  boy  like  me  he 
seemed  very  old,  being  over  twenty,  and  well-found  in  beard; 
but  he  was  not  more  than  four-and-twenty,  fresh  and  ruddy- 
looking,  with  a  short  nose,  and  keen  blue  eyes,  and  a  merry 
waggish  jerk  about  him,  as  if  the  world  were  not  in  earnest. 
Yet  he  had  a  sharp,  stern  way,  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  if 
anything  misliked  him ;  and  we  knew  (for  children  see  such 
things)  that  it  was  safer  to  tickle  than  tackle  him. 

"Well,  young  vms,  what  be  gaping  at?"  He  gave  pretty 
Annie  a  chuck  on  the  chin,  and  took  me  all  in  without  winking. 

"Your  mare,"  said  I,  standing  stoutly  up,  being  a  tall  boy 
now ;  "  I  never  saw  such  a  beauty,  sir.  Will  you  let  me  have 
a  ride  of  her?  " 

"  Think  thou  couldst  ride  her,  lad?  She  will  have  no  bur- 
den but  mine.  Thou  couldst  never  ride  her.  Tut!  I  would  be 
loth  to  kill  thee." 

"Eide  her!  "  I  cried  with  the  bravest  scorn,  for  she  looked 
so  kind  and  gentle;  "there  never  was  horse  upon  Exmoor 
foaled,  but  I  could  tackle  in  half-an-hour.  Only  I  never  ride 
upon  saddle.     Take  them  leathers  off  of  her." 

He  looked  at  me,  with  a  dry  little  whistle,  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  breeches-pockets,  and  so  grinned  that  I  could 
not  stand  it.  And  Annie  laid  hold  of  me,  in  such  a  way,  that 
I  was  almost  mad  with  her.  And  he  laughed,  and  approved 
her  for  doing  so.     And  the  worst  of  all  was  —  he  said  nothing. 

"  Get  away,  Annie,  will  you?  Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool,  good 
sir?     Only  trust  me  with  her,  and  I  will  not  over-ride  her." 


A  BE  AVE  RESCUE  AND  A  BOUGH  RIDE.  67 

"  For  tlaat  I  will  go  bail,  my  son.  She  is  liker  to  over-ride 
thee.  But  the  ground  is  soft  to  fall  iipon,  after  all  this  rain. 
Now  come  out  into  the  yard,  young  man,  for  the  sake  of  your 
mother's  cabbages.  And  the  mellow  straw-bed  will  be  softer 
for  thee,  since  pride  must  have  its  fall.  I  am  thy  mother's 
cousin,  boy,  and  am  going  up  to  house.  Tom  Faggus  is  my 
name,  as  everybody  knows;  and  this  is  my  young  mare, 
Winnie." 

What  a  fool  I  must  have  been  not  to  know  it  at  once !  Tom 
Faggus,  the  great  highwayman,  and  his  young  blood-mare,  the 
strawberry!  Already  her  fame  was  noised  abroad,  nearly  as 
much  as  her  master's ;  and  my  longing  to  ride  her  grew  tenfold, 
but  fear  came  at  the  back  of  it.  Not  that  I  had  the  smallest 
fear  of  what  the  mare  could  do  to  me,  by  fair  play  and  horse- 
trickery  ;  but  that  the  glory  of  sitting  upon  her  seemed  to  be 
too  great  for  me;  especially  as  there  were  rumors  abroad  that 
she  was  not  a  mare  after  all,  but  a  witch.  HoAvever,  she  looked 
like  a  filly  all  over,  and  Avonderfully  beautiful,  with  her  supple 
stride,  and  soft  slope  of  shoulder,  and  glossy  coat  beaded  with 
water,  and  prominent  eyes,  full  of  love  or  of  fire.  Whether  this 
came  from  her  Eastern  blood  of  the  Arabs  newly  imported,  and 
whether  the  cream-color,  mixed  with  our  bay,  led  to  that  bright 
strawberry  tint,  is  certainly  more  than  I  can  decide,  being 
chiefly  acquainted  with  farm-horses.  And  these  come  of  any 
color  and  form;  you  never  can  count  what  they  will  be,  and 
are  lucky  to  get  four  legs  to  them. 

Mr.  Faggus  gave  his  mare  a  wink,  and  she  walked  demurely 
after  him,  a  bright  young  thing,  flowing  over  with  life,  yet 
dropping  her  soul  to  a  iiigher  one,  and  led  by  love  to  anything; 
as  the  manner  is  of  females,  when  they  know  Avliat  is  the  best 
for  them.  Then  Winnie  trod  lightly  upon  the  straw,  because  it 
had  soft  muck  under  it,  and  her  delicate  feet  came  back  again. 

"  Up  for  it  still,  Ijoy,  be  ye?  "  Tom  Faggus  stopped,  and  the 
mare  stopped  there ;  and  they  looked  at  me  provokingly. 

"Is  she  able  to  leap,  sir?  There  is  good  take-off  on  this 
side  of  the  brook." 

Mr.  Faggus  lauglied  very  quietly,  turning  round  to  ^\^innie, 
so  that  she  might  enter  into  it.  And  she,  for  her  part,  seemed 
to  know  exactly  wliere  the  joke  was. 

"Good  tumble-otf,  you  mean,  my  boy.  Well  there  can  be 
small  harm  to  thee.  I  am  akin  to  thy  family,  and  know  the 
substance  of  their  skulls." 

"Let  me  get  uj),"  said  I,  waxing  wroth,  for  reasons  I  cannot 
tell  you,  because  they  are  too  manifohl;  "take  off  your  saddle- 


68  LORNA  DOONE. 

bag  tilings.  I  will  try  not  to  squeeze  lier  ribs  in,  unless  she 
plays  nonsense  with  me." 

Then  Mr.  Faggus  was  up  on  his  mettle,  at  this  proud  speech 
of  mine ;  and  John  Fry  was  running  up  all  the  while,  and  Bill 
Dadds,  and  a  half  a  dozen.  Tom  Faggus  gave  one  glance 
around,  and  then  dropped  all  regard  for  me.  The  high  repute 
of  his  mare  was  at  stake,  and  what  was  my  life  compared  to 
it?  Through  my  defiance,  and  stupid  ways,  here  was  I  in  a 
duello,  and  my  legs  not  come  to  their  strength  yet,  and  my 
arms  as  limp  as  a  herring. 

Something  of  this  occurred  to  him,  even  in  his  wrath  with 
me,  for  he  spoke  very  softly  to  the  filly,  who  now  could  scarce 
subdue  herself;  but  she  drew  in  her  nostrils,  and  breathed  to 
his  breath,  and  did  all  she  could  to  answer  him. 

"Not  too  hard,  my  dear,"  he  said;  "let  him  gently  down  on 
the  mixen.  That  will  be  quite  enough."  Then  he  turned  the 
saddle  off,  and  I  was  up  in  a  moment.  She  began  at  first  so 
easily,  and  pricked  her  ears  so  lovingly,  and  minced  about  as 
if  pleased  to  find  so  light  a  weight  on  her,  that  I  thought  she 
knew  I  could  ride  a  little,  and  feared  to  show  any  capers. 
"  Gee  wugg,  Polly!  "  cried  I,  for  all  the  men  were  now  looking 
on,  being  then  at  the  leaving-off  time ;  "  Gee  wugg,  Polly,  and 
show  what  thou  be 'est  made  of."  With  that  I  plugged  my 
heels  into  her,  and  Billy  Dadds  flung  his  hat  up. 

Nevertheless,  she  outraged  not,  though  her  eyes  were  fright- 
ening Annie,  and  John  Fry  took  a  pick  to  keep  him  safe; 
but  she  curbed  to  and  fro,  with  her  strong  fore-arms  rising, 
like  springs  ingathered,  waiting  and  quivering  grievously,  and 
beginning  to  sweat  about  it.  Then  her  master  gave  a  shrill 
clear  whistle,  when  her  ears  were  bent  towards  him,  and  I  felt 
her  form  beneath  me  gathering  up  like  whalebone,  and  her 
hind-legs  coming  under  her,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  in  for  it. 

First  she  reared  upright  in  the  air,  and  struck  me  full  on 
the  nose  with  her  comb,  till  I  bled  worse  than  Robin  Snell 
made  me ;  and  then  down  with  her  fore-feet  deep  in  the  straw, 
and  her  hind-feet  going  to  heaven.  Finding  me  stick  to  her 
still  like  wax  (for  my  mettle  was  up  as  hers  was),  away  she 
flew  with  me,  swifter  than  ever  I  went  before,  or  since,  I  trow. 
She  drove  full-head  at  the  cob  wall  —  "oh,  Jack,  slip  off," 
screamed  Annie  —  then  she  turned  like  light,  when  I  thought 
to  crush  her,  and  ground  my  left  knee  against  it.  " Mux  me;  " 
I  cried,  for  my  breeches  were  broken,  and  short  words  went 
the  furthest  —  "  if  you  kill  me,  you  shall  die  with  me."  Then 
she  took  the  court-yard  gate  at  a  leap,  knocking  my  words 


->  t 


f 


f^ 


>,'S-..-' 


X  -- 


She    I.I.Al'hU    THE    WIDE    WATEk-TROLGH     SIDIWAVS    ACROSS,    TO    A.Nli     I  RO, 
TILL    NO    BREATH     WAS    LEl^T    IN    ME."  —  Vol.    I.    p.    6q. 


TOM   DESERVES  HIS   SUPPER.  69 

between  my  teeth,  and  then  right  over  a  quickset  hedge,  as  if 
the  sky  were  a  breath  to  her ;  and  away  for  the  water-meadows, 
while  I  lay  on  her  neck  like  a  child  at  the  breast,  and  wished 
I  had  never  been  born.  Straight  away,  all  in  the  front  of  the 
wind,  and  scattering  clouds  around  her,  all  I  knew  of  the  speed 
we  made  was  the  frightful  flash  of  her  shoulders,  and  her  mane 
like  trees  in  a  tempest.  I  felt  the  earth  under  us  rushing  away, 
and  the  air  left  far  behind  us,  and  my  breath  came  and  went, 
and  I  prayed  to  God,  and  was  sorry  to  be  so  late  of  it. 

All  the  long  swift  Avhile,  without  power  of  thought,  I  clung 
to  her  crest  and  shoulders,  and  dug  my  nails  into  her  creases, 
and  my  toes  into  her  flank-part,  and  Avas  j^roud  of  holding  on 
so  long,  though  sure  of  being  beaten.  Then  in  her  fury  at  feel- 
ing me  still,  she  rushed  at  another  device  for  it,  and  leaped  the 
wide  water-trough  sideways  across,  to  and  fro,  till  no  breath  was 
left  in  me.  The  hazel-boughs  took  me  too  hard  in  the  face, 
and  the  tall  dog-briars  got  hold  of  me,  and  the  ache  of  my  back 
was  like  crimping  a  fish;  till  I  longed  to  give  up,  and  lay 
thoroughly  beaten,  and  lie  there  and  die  in  the  cresses.  But 
there  came  a  shrill  whistle  from  up  the  home-hill,  where  the 
people  had  hurried  to  watch  us ;  and  the  mare  stopped  as  if 
with  a  bullet;  then  set  off  for  home  with  the  speed  of  a  swallow, 
and  going  as  smoothly  and  silently.  I  never  had  dreamed  of 
such  delicate  motion,  fluent,  and  graceful,  and  ambient,  soft 
as  the  breeze  flitting  over  the  flowers,  but  swift  as  the  summer 
lightning.  I  sat  up  again,  but  my  strength  was  all  spent,  and 
no  time  left  to  recover  it;  and  at  last,  as  she  rose  at  our  gate 
like  a  bird,  I  tumbled  off  into  the  mixen. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TOM    DESERVES    HIS    SUPPER. 

"Well  done,  lad,"  Mr.  Faggus  said,  good  naturcdly ;  for  all 
were  now  gathered  round  me,  as  I  rose  from  tlie  ground  some- 
what tottering,  and  miry,  and  crestfallen,  but  otherwise  none 
the  worse  (having  fallen  upon  my  head,  wliich  is  of  uncommon 
substance);  nevertlieless  John  Fry  was  laugliing,  so  tliat  I 
longed  to  clout  his  ears  for  him;  "Not  at  all  Ijad  work,  my  bo}' ; 
we  may  teach  you  to  ride  by  and  by,  I  see ;  I  thought  not  to  see 
you  stick  on  so  long  " 

"I  should  hav(;  stuck  on  mucli  longer,  sir,  if  her  sides  liau 
not  been  wet.     Slie  was  so  slippery  " 


70  LORNA   DOONE. 

"  Boy,  thou  art  right.  She  hath  given  many  the  slip.  Ha, 
ha  I  Vex  not,  Jack,  that  I  laugh  at  thee.  She  is  like  a  sweet- 
heart to  me,  and  better  than  any  of  them  be.  It  would  have 
gone  to  my  heart,  if  thou  hadst  conquered.  None  but  I  can 
ride  my  Winnie  mare." 

"  Foul  shame  to  thee  then,  Tom  Faggus,"  cried  mother,  com- 
ing up  suddenly,  and  speaking  so  that  all  were  amazed,  having 
never  seen  her  wrathful;  "to  put  my  boy,  my  boy,  across  her, 
as  if  his  life  were  no  more  than  thine !  The  only  son  of  his 
father,  an  honest  man,  and  a  quiet  man,  not  a  roystering 
drunken  robber!  A  man  would  have  taken  thy  mad  horse  and 
thee,  and  flung  them  both  into  horse-pond  —  ay,  and  what's 
more  I'll  have  it  done  now,  if  a  hair  of  his  head  is  injured. 
Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy!  What  could  I  do  without  thee?  Put 
up  the  other  arm,  Johnny."  All  the  time  mother  was  scolding 
so,  she  was  feeling  me,  and  wiping  me ;  while  Faggus  tried  to 
look  greatly  ashamed,  having  sense  of  the  ways  of  women. 

"Only  look  at  his  jacket,  mother!"  cried  Annie;  "and  a 
shillingsworth  gone  from  his  small-clothes !  " 

"  What  care  I  for  his  clothes,  thou  goose?  Take  that,  and 
heed  thine  own  a  bit."  And  mother  gave  Annie  a  slap  which 
sent  her  swinging  up  against  Mr.  Faggus,  and  he  caught  her, 
and  kissed,  and  protected  her;  and  she  looked  at  him  very 
nicely,  with  great  tears  in  her  soft  blue  eyes.  "  Oh,  fie  upon 
thee,  fie  upon  thee !  "  cried  mother  (being  yet  more  vexed  with 
him,  because  she  had  beaten  Annie)  ;  "  After  all  we  have  done 
for  thee,  and  saved  thy  worthless  neck  —  and  to  try  to  kill  my 
son  for  me !  Never  more  shall  horse  of  thine  enter  stable  here, 
since  these  be  thy  returns  to  me.  Small  thanks  to  you,  John 
Fry,  I  say,  and  you  Bill  Dadds,  and  you  Jem  Slocomb,  and  all 
the  rest  of  your  coward  lot;  much  you  care  for  your  master's 
son !  Afraid  of  that  ugly  beast  yourselves,  and  you  put  a  boy 
just  breeched  upon  him !  " 

"  WuU,  missus,  what  could  us  do?  "  began  John ;  "  Jan  wudd 
goo,  now  wudd't  her,  Jem?     And  how  was  us  " 

"  Jan  indeed !  Master  John,  if  you  please,  to  a  lad  of  his 
years  and  stature.  And  now  Tom  Faggus,  be  off,  if  you  please, 
and  think  yourself  lucky  to  go  so ;  and  if  ever  that  horse  comes 
into  our  yard,  I'll  hamstring  him  myself,  if  none  of  my  cowards 
dare  do  it." 

Everybody  looked  at  mother,  to  hear  her  talk  like  that,  know- 
ing how  quiet  she  was,  day  by  day,  and  how  pleasant  to  be 
cheated.  And  the  men  began  to  shoulder  their  shovels,  both 
so  as  to  be  away  from  her,  and  to  go  and  tell  their  wives  of  it. 


TOM  DESERVES  HIS   SUPPER.  71 

"VViimie  too  was  looking  at  lier,  being  pointed  at  so  much,  and 
■wondering  if  slie  iiad  done  amiss.  And  then  she  came  to 
me,  and  trembled,  and  stooped  her  head,  and  asked  my  pardon, 
if  she  had  been  too  proud  with  me. 

"Winnie  shall  stop  here  to-night,"  said  I,  for  Tom  Faggus 
still  said  never  a  word  all  the  while ;  but  began  to  buckle  his 
things  on,  for  he  knew  that  women  are  to  be  met  witli  wool, 
as  the  cannon-balls  were  at  the  siege  of  Tiverton  Castle; 
"mother,  I  tell  you,  Winnie  shall  stop;  else  I  will  go  away 
with  her.  I  never  knew  what  it  was,  till  now,  to  ride  a  horse 
worth  riding." 

"Young  man,"  said  Tom  Faggus,  still  preparing  sternly  to 
depart,  "you  know  more  about  a  horse  than  any  man  on 
Exmoor.  Your  mother  may  well  be  proud  of  you,  but  she 
need  have  had  no  fear.  As  if  I,  Tom  Faggus,  your  father's 
cousin  —  and  the  only  thing  I  am  proud  of  —  would  ever 
have  let  you  mount  my  mare,  which  clukes  and  princes  have 
vainly  sought,  except  for  the  courage  in  your  eyes,  and  the 
look  of  your  father  about  you.  I  knew  you  could  ride  when  I 
saw  you,  and  rarely  you  have  conquered.  But  women  care 
not  to  understand  us.  Good-bye,  John;  I  am  proud  of  you, 
and  I  hoped  to  have  done  you  pleasure.  And  indeed,  I  canae 
full  of  some  courtly  tales,  that  would  have  made  your  luiir 
stand  up.  But  though  not  a  crust  I  have  tasted  since  this  time 
yesterday,  having  given  my  meat  to  a  widow,  I  will  go  and 
starve  on  the  moor,  far  sooner  than  eat  the  best  supper  that 
ever  was  cooked,  in  a  place  that  has  forgotten  me."  With  that 
he  fetched  a  heavy  sigh,  as  if  it  had  been  for  my  father;  and 
feebly  got  upon  Winnie's  back,  and  she  came  to  say  farewell 
to  me.  He  lifted  his  liat  to  my  mother,  with  a  glance  of  sor- 
row, but  never  a  word;  and  to  me  he  said,  "Open  the  gate. 
Cousin  John,  if  you  please.  You  have  beaten  her  so,  that  she 
cannot  leap  it,  poor  thing." 

But  before  he  was  truly  gone  out  of  our  yard,  my  mother 
came  softly  after  him,  with  her  afternoon  apron  across  her 
eyes,  and  one  hand  ready  to  offer  him.  Nevertheless  he  made 
as  if  he  had  not  seen  her,  though  he  let  his  horse  go  slowly. 

"Stop,  Cousin  Tom,"  my  mother  said,  "a  word  with  you, 
before  you  go." 

"Wliy,  bless  my  heart!"  Tom  Fag.gus  cried,  with  the  form 
of  liis  countenance  so  changed,  that  t  verily  thought  another 
man  must  have  leaped  into  his  clothes  —  "  do  I  see  my  Cousin 
Sarah?  I  thought  every  one  was  ashamed  of  me,  :ind  al'niid  to 
offer  mc  slieltt^r,  since  I  lost  my  best  cousin,  John  Kidd.     'Come 


72  LOENA   BOONE. 

here, '  he  used  to  say,  '  Tom,  come  here,  when  you  are  worried, 
and  my  wife  shall  take  good  care  of  you.'  'Yes,  dear  John,' 
I  used  to  answer,  'I  know  she  promised  my  mother  so;  but 
people  have  taken  to  think  against  me,  and  so  might  Cousin 
Sarah. '  Ah,  he  was  a  man,  a  man !  If  you  only  heard  how 
he  answered  me.  But  let  that  go,  I  am  nothing  now,  since  the 
day  I  lost  Cousin  Ridd."  And  with  that  he  began  to  push  on 
again;  but  mother  would  not  have  it  so. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  that  was  a  loss  indeed.  And  I  am  nothing  either. 
And  you  should  try  to  allow  for  me ;  though  I  never  found  any 
one  that  did."  And  mother  began  to  cry,  though  father  had 
been  dead  so  long;  and  I  looked  on  with  a  stupid  surprise, 
having  stopped  from  crying  long  ago. 

"I  can  tell  you  one  that  will,"  cried  Tom,  jumping  off  Win- 
nie, in  a  trice,  and  looking  kindly  at  mother;  ''I  can  allow  for 
you,  Co^^sin  Sarah,  in  everything  but  one.  1  am  in  some  ways 
a  bad  man  myself;  but  I  know  the  value  of  .a  good  one;  and  if 
you  gave  me  orders,  by  God  " And  he  shook  his  fists  to- 
wards Bagworthy  Wood,  just  heaving  up  black  in  the  sundown. 

"Hush,  Tom,  hush,  for  God's  sake!"  And  mother  meant 
me,  without  pointing  at  me ;  or  at  least  I  thought  she  did.  For 
she  ever  had  weaned  me  from  thoughts  of  revenge,  and  even 
from  longings  for  judgment.  "  God  knows  best,  boy, "  she 
used  to  say,  "let  us  wait  His  time,  without  wishing  it."  And 
so,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did;  partly  through  her  teaching,  and 
partly  through  my  own  mild  temper,  and  my  knowledge  that 
father,  after  all,  was  killed  because  he  had  thrashed  them. 

"  Good  night.  Cousin  Sarah;  good  night.  Cousin  Jack;  "  cried 
Tom,  taking  to  the  mare  again ;  "  many  a  mile  I  have  to  ride, 
and  not  a  bit  inside  of  me.  No  food  or  shelter,  this  side  of 
Exeford,  and  the  night  will  be  black  as  pitch,  I  trow.  But  it 
serves  me  right  for  indulging  the  lad,  being  taken  with  his 
looks  so." 

"Cousin  Tom,"  said  mother,  and  trying  to  get  so  that  Annie 
and  I  could  not  hear  her ;  "  it  would  be  a  sad  and  unkinlike 
thing,  for  you  to  despise  our  dwelling-house.  We  cannot  enter- 
tain you,  as  the  lordly  inns  on  the  road  do ;  and  we  have  small 
change  of  victuals.  But  the  men  will  go  home,  being  Satur- 
day; and  so  you  will  have  the  fireside  all  to  yourself  and  the 
children.  There  are  some  few  collops  of  red  deer's  flesh,  and 
a  ham  just  down  from  the  chimney,  and  some  dried  salmon 
from  Lynmovxth  weir,  and  cold  roast-pig,  and  some  oysters. 
And  if  none  of  those  be  to  your  liking,  we  could  roast  two  wood- 
cocks in  half  an  hour,  and  Annie  would  make  the  toast  for 


TOM  DESERVES  UIS  SUPPER.  73 

them.  And  the  good  folk  made  some  mistake  last  week,  going 
up  the  country,  and  left  a  keg  of  old  Holland  cordial  in  the 
coving  of  the  wood-rick,  having  borrowed  our  Sniiler,  without 
asking  leave.  I  fear  there  is  something  unrighteous  about  it. 
But  what  can  a  poor  widow  do?  John  Fry  would  have  taken 
it,  but  for  our  Jack.     Our  Jack  was  a  little  too  sharp  for  him." 

Ay,  that  I  was ;  John  Fry  had  got  it,  like  a  billet  uiuler  his 
apron,  going  away  in  the  gray  of  the  morning,  as  if  to  kindle 
his  fireplace.  "Why,  John,"  I  said,  "what  a  heavy  log!  Let 
me  have  one  end  of  it."  "Thank'e,  Jan,  no  need  of  thicey," 
he  answered,  turning  his  back  to  nie;  "  waife  wanteth  a  log  as 
will  last  all  day,  to  kape  the  crock  a  zinimerin."  And  he 
banged  his  gate  upon  my  heels,  to  make  me  stop  and  rub  them. 
"Why,  John,"  said  I,  "you'm  got  a  log  with  round  holes  in 
the  end  of  it.  Who  has  been  cutting  gun- wads?  Just  lift 
your  apron,  or  I  will." 

But,  to  return  to  Tom  Faggus  —  he  stopped  to  sup  that  night 
with  us,  and  took  a  little  of  everything;  a  few  oysters  first, 
and  then  dried  salmon,  and  then  ham  and  eggs,  done  in  small 
curled  rashers,  and  then  a  feAv  collops  of  venison  toasted,  and 
next  to  that  a  little  cold  roast-pig,  and  a  woodcock  on  toast  to 
finish  with,  before  the  Schiedam  and  hot  water.  And  having 
changed  his  wet  things  first,  he  seemed  to  be  in  fair  api)etite, 
and  praised  Annie's  cooking  mightily,  with  a  relishing  noise 
like  a  smack  of  his  lips,  and  a  rubbing  of  his  hands  together, 
whenever  he  could  spare  them. 

He  had  gotten  John  Fry's  best  small-clothes  on,  for  he  said 
he  was  not  good  enough  to  go  into  my  father's  (which  mother 
kept  to  look  at),  nor  man  enough  to  till  them.  And  in  truth, 
my  mother  was  very  glad  that  he  refused,  when  I  offered  them. 
But  John  was  over-proud  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  say,  that 
such  a  famous  man  had  ever  dwelt  in  any  clothes  of  his;  and 
afterwards  he  made  show  of  tlK^n.  For  Mr.  Faggus'  glory, 
then,  though  not  so  great  as  now  it  is,  was  spreading  very  fast 
indeed  all  about  our  neighborhood,  and  even  as  far  as  Bridge- 
water. 

Tom  Faggus  was  a  jovial  soul,  if  ever  there  has  been  one; 
not  making  bones  of  little  things,  nor  caring  to  seek  evil. 
Tliere  was  about  him  sucli  a  love  of  genuine  liuman  natur(>, 
tliat  if  a  traveller  said  a  good  tiling,  Ik;  would  give  him  back 
his  purse  again.  It  is  true  tliat  he  took  people's  money,  more 
by  force  than  fraud;  and  the  law  (being  us(!d  to  tlie  other 
course)  was  bitterly  moved  against  him,  althougli  he  could 
quote  i)recedent.     These  things  1  do  not  understand;  having 


74  LOENA  DOONE. 

seen  so  much  of  robbery  (some  legal,  some  illegal),  that  I 
scarcely  know,  as  here  we  say,  one  crow's  foot  from  the  other. 
It  is  beyond  me,  and  above  me,  to  discuss  these  subjects ;  and 
in  truth  I  love  the  law  right  well,  when  it  doth  support  me, 
and  when  I  can  lay  it  down  to  my  liking,  with  power  to  sup- 
port it.  Loyal,  too,  to  the  King  am  I,  as  behoves  Church- 
warden; and  ready  to  make  the  best  of  him,  as  he  generally 
requires.  But  after  all,  I  could  not  see  (until  I  grew  much 
older,  and  came  to  have  some  property)  why  Tom  Faggus, 
working  hard,  was  called  a  robber,  and  felon  of  great;  while 
the  King,  doing  nothing  at  all  (as  became  his  dignity),  was 
liege-lord,  and  paramount  owner;  with  everybody  to  thank 
him  kindly,  for  accepting  tribute. 

For  the  present,  however,  I  learned  nothing  more  as  to 
what  our  cousin's  profession  was;  only  that  mother  seemed 
frightened,  and  whispered  to  him  now  and  then,  not  to  talk 
of  this  or  that,  because  of  the  children  being  there;  where- 
upon he  always  nodded,  with  a  sage  expression,  and  applied 
himself  to  hollands. 

"  iSTow  let  us  go  and-  see  Winnie,  Jack, "  he  said  to  me  after 
supper;  "for  the  most  part  I  feed  her  before  myself;  but  she 
was  so  hot  from  the  way  you  drove  her.  Now  she  must  be 
grieving  for  me,  and  I  never  let  her  grieve  long." 

I  was  too  glad  to  go  with  him,  and  Annie  came  slyly  after 
us.  The  lilly  was  walking  to  and  fro,  on  the  naked  floor  of 
the  stable  (for  he  would  not  let  her  have  any  straw,  until  he 
should  make  a  bed  for  her),  and  without  so  much  as  a  head- 
stall on,  for  he  would  not  have  her  fastened.  "  Do  you  take 
my  mare  for  a  dog  ?  "  he  had  said,  when  John  Fry  brought 
him  a  halter.  And  now  she  ran  to  him  like  a  child,  and  her 
great  eyes  shone  at  the  lanthorn. 

"Hit  me,  Jack,  and  see  what  she  will  do.  I  will  not  let 
her  hurt  thee."  He  was  rubbing  her  ears,  all  the  time  he 
spoke,  and  she  was  leaning  against  him.  Then  I  made  believe 
to  strike  him,  and  in  a  moment  she  caught  me  by  the  waist- 
band, and  lifted  me  clean  from  the  ground,  and  was  casting 
me  down  to  trample  upon  me,  when  he  stopped  her  suddenly. 

"  What  think  you  of  that,  boy  ?  Have  you  horse,  or  dog, 
that  would  do  that  for  you  ?  Ay,  and  more  than  that  she  will 
do.  If  I  were  to  whistle,  by  and  by,  in  the  tone  that  tells 
my  danger,  she  would  break  this  stable-door  down,  and  rush 
into  the  room  to  me.  ^Nothing  will  keep  her  from  me  then, 
stone-wall,  or  church-tower.  Ah,  Winnie,  Winnie,  you  little 
witch,  we  shall  die  together." 


TOM  DESERVES  HIS   SUPPER.  75 

Then  lie  turned  away  with  a  joke,  and  began  to  feed  her 
nicely,  for  she  was  very  dainty.  Xot  a  husk  of  oat  would  she 
touch,  that  had  been  under  the  breath  of  another  horse,  how- 
ever hungry  she  might  be.  And  with  lier  oats  he  mixed  some 
powder,  fetching  it  from  his  saddle-bags.  What  this  was  I 
could  not  guess,  neither  would  he  tell  mcj  but  lauglied,  and 
called  it  "star-shavings."  He  watched  her  eat  every  morsel 
of  it,  with  two  or  three  drinks  of  pure  water  ministered  be- 
tAveen  whiles;  and  then  he  made  her  bed,  in  a  form  I  had 
never  seen  before,  and  so  we  said  "  good  night  "  to  her. 

Afterwards  by  the  fireside,  he  kept  us  very  merry,  sitting 
in  the  great  chimney-corner,  and  making  \is  play  games  with 
him.  And  all  the  while,  he  was  smoking  tobacco,  in  a  manner 
I  never  had  seen  before,  not  using  any  pipe  for  it,  but  having 
it  rolled  in  little  sticks,  about  as  long  as  my  finger,  blunt  at 
one  end,  and  sharp  at  the  other.  The  sharp  end  he  would  put 
in  his  mouth,  and  lay  a  brand  of  wood  to  the  other,  and  then 
draw  a  white  cloud  of  curling  smoke ;  and  we  never  tired  of 
watching  him.  I  wanted  him  to  let  me  do  it,  but  he  said, 
"No,  my  son;  it  is  not  meant  for  boys."  Then  Annie  put 
up  her  lips,  and  asked,  with  both  hands  on  his  knees  (for  she 
had  taken  to  him  wonderfully),  "  Is  it  meant  for  girls  then, 
cousin  Tom  ? "  But  she  had  better  not  have  asked,  for  he 
gave  it  her  to  try,  and  she  shut  both  eyes,  and  sucked  at  it. 
One  breath  however  was  quite  enough,  for  it  made  her  cough 
so  violently,  that  Lizzie  and  I  nii;st  thump  her  back,  until  she 
was  almost  crying.  To  atone  for  that,  cousin  Tom  set  to,  and 
told  us  whole  pages  of  stories,  not  about  his  own  doings  at 
all;  but  strangely  enough  they  seemed  to  concern  almost 
every  one  else  we  had  ever  lieard  of.  Without  halting  once 
for  a  word  or  a  deed,  his  tales  flowed  onward  as  freely  and 
brightly  as  the  flames  of  the  wood  up  the  chimney,  and  with 
no  smaller  variety.  For  he  spoke  with  tlie  voices  of  twenty 
people,  giving  each  person  the  proper  manner,  and  the  proper 
place  to  speak  from;  so  that  Annie  and  Lizzie  ran  all  about, 
and  searched  the  clock  and  the  linen-press.  And  he  changed 
his  face  every  moment  so,  and  with  sucli  power  of  mimicry, 
that  witliout  so  much  as  a  smile  of  his  own,  lie  made  even 
motlier  laugh  so  that  she  broke  her  new  tenpenny  waist- 
Ijaiid;  and  as  for  us  cliildren,  we  rolled  on  tlic  floor,  and  liotty 
Muxwortliy  roared  in  the  wash  up. 


76  LORNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A   MAN  JUSTLY    POPULAR. 

Now  although  Mr.  Faggus  was  so  clever,  and  generous,  and 
celebrated,  I  know  not  whether,  upon  the  whole,  we  were 
rather  proud  of  him  as  a  member  of  our  family,  or  inclined  to 
be  ashamed  of  him.  And  indeed  I  think  that  the  sway  of  the 
balance  hung  upon  the  company  we  were  in.  For  instance, 
with  the  boys  at  Brandon  —  for  there  is  no  village  at  Oare  — 
I  was  exceeding  proud  to  talk  of  him,  and  would  freely  brag 
of  my  Cousin  Tom.  But  with  the  rich  parsons  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, or  the  justices  (who  came  round  now  and  then,  and 
were  glad  to  ride  up  to  a  warm  farm-house),  or  even  the  well- 
to-do  tradesmen  of  Porlock  —  in  a  word,  any  settled  power, 
which  was  afraid  of  losing  things  —  with  all  of  these  we  were 
very  shy  of  claiming  our  kinship  to  that  great  outlaw. 

Our  place  was  to  comfort  rather  than  condemn  him,  though 
our  ways  in  the  world  were  so  different,  knowing  as  we  did 
his  story;  which  knowledge,  methinks,  would  often  lead  us 
to  let  alone  God's  prerogative  —  judgment,  and  hold  by  man's 
privilege  —  pity.  Not  that  I  would  find  excuse  for  Tom's 
downright  dishonesty,  which  was  beyond  doubt  a  disgrace  to 
him,  and  no  credit  to  his  kinsfolk;  only  that  it  came  about 
without  his  meaning  any  harm,  or  seeing  how  he  took  to 
wrong;  yet  gradually  increasing  it.  And  now,  to  save  any 
further  trouble,  and  to  meet  those  who  disparage  him  (with- 
out allowance  for  the  time,  or  the  crosses  laid  upon  him),  I 
will  tell  the  history  of  him,  just  as  if  he  were  not  my  cousin, 
and  hoping  to  be  heeded.  And  I  defy  any  man  to  say  that  a 
word  of  this  is  either  false,  or  in  any  way  colored  by  family. 

Much  cause  he  had  to  be  harsh  with  the  world ;  and  yet  all 
acknowledged  him  very  pleasant,  when  a  man  gave  up  his 
money.  And  often  and  often  he  paid  the  toll  for  the  carriage 
coming  after  him,  because  he  had  emptied  their  pockets,  and 
would  not  add  inconvenience.  By  trade  he  had  been  a  black- 
smith, in  the  town  of  Northmolton,  in  Devonshire,  a  rough 
rude  place  at  the  end  of  Exmoor;  so  that  many  people  mar- 
velled if  such  a  man  was  bred  there.  Not  only  could  he  read 
and  write,  but  he  had  solid  substance;  apiece  of  land  worth 
a  hundred  pounds,  and  right  of  common  for  two  hundred 
sheep,   and  a  score-and-a-half  of  beasts,  lifting  up  or  lying 


A  MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  77 

down.  And  being  left  an  orphan  (with  all  these  cares  upon 
him)  he  began  to  work  right  early,  and  made  such  a  fame  at 
the  shoeing  of  horses,  that  the  farriers  of  Barum  were  like  to 
lose  their  custom.  And  indeed  he  won  a  golden  Jacobus,  for 
the  best-shod  nag  in  the  north  of  Devon,  and  some  say  that 
he  never  was  forgiven. 

As  to  that  I  know  no  more,  except  that  men  are  jealous. 
But  whether  it  were  that,  or  not,  he  fell  into  bitter  trouble 
within  a  month  of  his  victory;  when  his  trade  Avas  growing 
upon  him,  and  his  sweetheart  ready  to  marry  him.  For  he 
loved  a  maid  of  Southmolton  (a  currier's  daughter  I  think  she 
■vras,  and  her  name  was  Betsy  Paramore),  and  her  father  had 
given  consent;  and  Tom  Faggus,  wishing  to  look  his  best,  and 
be  clean  of  course,  had  a  tailor  at  work  upstairs  for  him,  who 
had  come  all  the  way  from  Exeter.  And  Betsy's  things  were 
ready  too  —  for  which  they  accused  him  afterwards,  as  if  he 
could  help  that  —  when  suddenly,  like  a  thunderbolt,  a  law- 
yer's writ  fell  upon  him. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  law-suit  with  Sir  Robert 
Bampfylde,  a  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  tried  to 
oust  him  from  his  common,  and  drove  his  cattle,  and  harassed 
them.  And  by  that  suit  of  law  poor  Tom  was  ruined  alto- 
gether, for  Sir  Robert  could  pay  for  much  swearing;  and  then 
all  his  goods  and  his  farm  were  sold  up,  and  even  his  smith- 
ery  taken.  But  he  saddled  his  horse,  before  they  could  catch 
him,  and  rode  away  to  Southmolton,  looking  more  like  a  mad- 
man than  a  good  farrier,  as  the  people  said  who  saw  him. 
But  when  he  arrived  there,  instead  of  comfort,  tliey  showed 
him  the  face  of  the  door  alone ;  for  the  news  of  his  loss  was 
before  him,  and  Master  Paramore  was  a  sound  prudent  man, 
and  a  high  member  of  the  town-council.  It  is  said  that  they 
even  gave  him  notice  to  pay  for  Betsy's  Avedding-clothes,  now 
that  he  was  too  poor  to  marry  her.  This  may  be  false,  and 
indeed  I  doubt  it;  in  the  first  place,  because  Soutlmiolton  is 
a  busy  place  for  talking;  and  in  the  next,  that  1  do  not  tliink 
the  action  would  have  lain  at  law,  especially  as  the  maid  lost 
nothing,  but  used  it  all  for  her  wedding  next  month  with  Dick 
Vellacott,  of  Mockham. 

All  tliis  was  very  sore  upon  Tom ;  and  he  took  it  to  heart  so 
grievously,  that  he  said,  as  a  better  man  might  have  said,  be- 
ing loose  of  mind  and  property,  "  The  worhl  liatli  ])r(^ye(l  on 
nie,  like  a  wolf.      God  help  me  now  to  i)rey  on  the  world." 

And  in  sooth  it  did  seem,  for  a  wliih;,  as  if  I'lovidence  were 
with  him;   for  lie  took  r;ir('  toll  on  the  highway,  and  iiis  name 


78  LORN  A  DOONE. 

was  soon  as  good  as  gold  anywhere  this  side  of  Bristowe.  He 
studied  his  business  by  night  and  by  day,  with  three  horses 
all  in  hard  work,  until  he  had  made  a  fine  reputation;  and 
then  it  was  competent  to  him  to  rest,  and  he  had  plenty  left 
for  charity.  And  I  ought  to  say  for  society  too,  for  he  truly 
loved  high  society,  treating  squires  and  noblemen  (who  much 
affected  his  company)  to  the  very  best  fare  of  the  hostel. 
And  they  say  that  once  the  King's  justitiaries,  being  upon 
circuit,  accepted  his  invitation,  declaring  merrily  that  if  never 
true  bill  had  been  found  against  him,  mine  host  should  now  be 
qualified  to  draw  one.  And  so  the  landlords  did;  and  he 
always  paid  them  handsomely,  so  that  all  of  them  were  kind 
to  him,  and  contended  for  his  visits.  Let  it  be  known  in  any 
township  that  JVIr.  Faggus  was  taking  his  leisure  at  the  inn, 
and  straightway  all  the  men  flocked  thither  to  drink  his  health 
without  outlay,  and  all  the  women  to  admire  him;  while  the 
children  were  set  at  the  cross-roads  to  give  warning  of  any 
ofiicers. 

One  of  his  earliest  meetings  was  with  Sir  Robert  Bamp- 
fylde  himself,  who  was  riding  along  the  Barum  road,  with 
only  one  serving-man  after  him.  Tom  Faggus  put  a  pistol  to 
his  head,  being  then  obliged  to  be  violent,  through  want  of 
reputation ;  while  the  serving-man  pretended  to  be  a  long  way 
round  the  corner.  Then  the  baronet  pulled  out  his  purse, 
quite  trembling  in  the  hurry  of  his  politeness.  Tom  took  the 
purse,  and  his  ring,  and  time-piece,  and  then  handed  them 
back  with  a  very  low  bow,  sajdng  that  it  was  against  all  usage 
for  him  to  rob  a  robber.  Then  he  turned  to  the  unfaithful 
knave,  and  trounced  him  right  well  for  his  cowardice,  and 
stripped  him  of  all  his  property. 

But  now  Mr.  Faggus  kept  only  one  horse,  lest  the  Govern- 
ment should  steal  them;  and  that  one  was  the  young  mare 
Winnie.  How  he  came  by  her  he  never  would  tell,  but  I 
think  that  she  was  presented  to  him  by  a  certain  Colonel,  a 
lover  of  sport,  and  very  clever  in  horse-flesh,  whose  life  Tom 
had  saved  from  some  gamblers.  "When  I  have  added  that 
Faggus  as  yet  had  never  been  guilty  of  bloodshed  (for  his  eyes, 
and  the  click  of  his  pistol  at  first,  and  now  his  high  reputa- 
tion made  all  his  wishes  respected),  and  that  he  never  robbed 
a  poor  man,  neither  insulted  a  woman,  but  was  very  good  to 
the  Church,  and  of  hot  patriotic  opinions,  and  full  of  jest  and 
jollity,  I  have  said  as  much  as  is  fair  for  him,  and  shown  why 
he  was  so  popular.  Everybody  cursed  the  Doones,  who  lived 
apart  disdainfully.     But  all  good  people  liked  Mr.  Faggus  — 


A  MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  V9 

when  lie  had  not  robbed  them  —  and  many  a  poor  sick  man  or 
woman  blessed  him  for  other  people's  money;  and  all  the 
hostlers,  stable-boys,  and  tapsters  entirely  worshipped  him. 

I  have  been  rather  long,  and  perhaps  tedions,  in  my  account 
of  him,  lest  at  any  time  hereafter  his  character  should  be  mis- 
understood, and  his  good  name  disparaged;  whereas   he  was 

my  second  cousin,  and  the  lover  of  my but  let  that  bide. 

'Tis  a  thing  that  will  show  itself,  by  and  by. 

He  came  again,  about  three  months  afterwards,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  spring-time,  and  brought  me  a  beautiful  new  car- 
bine, having  learned  my  love  of  such  things,  and  my  great 
desire  to  shoot  straight.  But  mother  would  not  let  me  have 
the  gun,  until  he  averred  upon  his  honor  that  he  had  bought  it 
honestly.  And  so  he  had,  no  doubt,  so  far  as  it  is  honest  to 
buy  with  money  acquired  rampantly.  Scarce  could  I  stop  to 
make  my  bullets  in  the  mould  which  came  along  with  it,  but 
must  be  off  to  the  Quarry  hill,  and  new  target  I  had  made 
there.  And  he  taught  me  then  how  to  ride  bright  Winnie, 
who  was  grown  since  I  had  seen  her,  but  remembered  me  most 
kindly.  After  making  much  of  Annie,  who  had  a  wondrous 
liking  for  him  —  and  he  said  he  was  her  godfather,  but  God 
knows  how  he  could  have  been,  unless  they  confirmed  him 
precociously  —  away  he  went,  and  young  Winnie's  sides 
shone  like  a  cherry  by  candlelight. 

Now  I  feel  that  of  those  boyish  days  T  have  little  more  to 
tell,  because  everything  went  quietly,  as  the  world  for  the 
most  part  does  with  us.  I  began  to  work  at  the  farm  in  ear- 
nest, and  tried  to  help  my  mother ;  and  when  I  remembered 
Lorna  Doone,  it  seemed  no  more  than  the  thought  of  a  dream, 
which  I  could  hardly  call  to  mind.  Now  who  cares  to  know, 
how  many  bushels  of  wheat  Ave  grew  to  the  acre,  or  how  the 
cattle  milched  till  we  ate  them,  or  what  the  turn  of  the  sea- 
sons was  ?  But  my  stupid  self  seemed  like  to  be  the  biggest 
of  all  the  cattle;  for  having  mu(;h  to  look  after  the  sheep,  and 
being  always  in  kind  appetite,  I  grew  four  inches  longer  in 
every  year  of  my  farming,  and  a  matter  of  two  inclies  wider; 
until  there  was  no  man  of  my  size  to  be  seen  elsewhere  upon 
Exmoor.  Let  that  pass :  what  odds  to  any,  how  tall  or  wide 
I  be  ?  There  is  no  Doone's  door  at  Plover's  Barrows,  and  if 
there  were  I  could  never  go  through  it.  They  vexed  me  so 
much  about  my  size,  long  before  I  had  completed  it,  girding 
at  me  with  paltry  jokes  whose  wit  was  good  only  to  stay  at 
home,  that  I  grew  sliamc-faced  about  the  matter,  and  feared 
to  encounter  a  looking-glass.  ]>ut  mother  was  very  jjvoud, 
and  said  she  never  could  have  too  much  of  me. 


80  LOBNA   BOONE. 

The  worst  of  all  to  make  ine  ashamed  of  bearing  my  Iv^ad 
so  high  —  a  thing  I  saw  no  Avay  to  help,  for  I  never  could 
hang  my  chin  down,  and  my  Lack  was  like  a  gate-post  when- 
ever I  tried  to  bend  it  —  the  worst  of  all  was  our  little  Eliza, 
who  never  could  come  to  a  size  herself,  though  she  had  the 
wine  from  the  Sacrament,  at  Easter  and  All-hallowmas,  only 
to  be  small  and  skinny,  sharp,  and  clever  crookedly.  Not  that 
her  body  was  out  of  the  straight  (being  too  small  for  that  per- 
haps), but  that  her  wit  was  full  of  corners,  jagged,  and  strange 
and  uncomfortable.  You  never  could  tell  what  she  might  say 
next :  and  I  like  not  that  kind  of  woman.  Now  God  forgive 
me  for  talking  so  of  my  own  father's  daughter;  and  so  much 
the  more  by  reason  that  my  father  cou^ld  not  help  it.  The 
right  way  is  to  face  the  matter,  and  then  be  sorry  for  every 
one.  My  mother  fell  grievously  on  a  slide,  which  John  Fry 
had  made  nigh  the  apple-room  door,  and  hidden  with  straw 
from  the  stable,  to  cover  his  own  great  idleness.  My  father 
laid  John's  nose  on  the  ice,  and  kept  him  warm  in  spite  of  it; 
but  it  was  too  late  for  Eliza.  She  was  born  next  day,  with 
more  mind  than  body  —  the  worst  thing  that  can  befall  a  man. 

But  Annie,  my  other  sister,  was  now  a  fine  fair  girl,  beau- 
tiful to  behold.  I  could  look  at  her  by  the  fireside,  for  an 
hour  together,  when  I  was  not  too  sleepy,  and  think  of  my 
dear  father.  And  she  would  do  the  same  thing  by  me,  only 
wait  the  between  of  the  blazes.  Her  hair  was  done  up  in  a 
knot  behind,  but  some  would  fall  over  her  shoulders ;  and  the 
dancing  of  the  light  was  sweet  to  see  through  a  man's  eye- 
lashes. There  never  was  a  face  that  showed  the  light  or  the 
shadow  of  feeling,  as  if  the  heart  were  sun  to  it,  more  than 
our  dear  Annie's  did.  To  look  at  her  carefully,  you  might 
think  that  she  was  not  dwelling  on  anything;  and  then  she 
would  know  you  were  looking  at  her,  and  those  eyes  would 
tell  all  about  it.  God  knows  that  I  try  to  be  simple  enough 
to  keep  to  His  meaning  in  me,  and  not  make  the  worst  of  His 
children.  Yet  often  have  I  been  put  to  shame,  and  ready  to 
bite  my  tongue  off.  after  speaking  amiss  of  anybody,  and  let- 
ting out  my  littleness,  when  suddenly  mine  eyes  have  met  the 
pure  soft  gaze  of  Annie. 

As  for  the  Doones,  they  were  thriving  still,  and  no  one  to 
come  against  them ;  except  indeed  by  word  of  mouth,  to  which 
they  lent  no  heed  whatever.  Complaints  were  made  from 
time  to  time,  both  in  high  and  low  quarters  (as  the  rank  might 
be  of  the  people  robbed),  and  once  or  twice  in  the  highest  of  all, 
to  wit,  the  King  himself.     But  His  Majesty  made  a  good  joke 


A   3IAN   JUSTLY  POPULAE.  81 

about  it  (not  meaning  any  harm,  I  doubt),  and  was  so  much 
pleased  with  himself  thereupon  that  he  quite  forgave  the  mis- 
chief. Moreover,  tlie  main  authorities  were  a  long  way  off; 
and  the  Chancellor  had  no  cattle  on  Exmoor ;  and  as  for  my 
lord  the  Chief  Justice,  some  rogue  had  taken  his  silver  spoons ; 
whereupon  his  lordship  swore  that  never  another  man  would 
he  hang,  until  he  had  that  one  by  the  neck.  Therefore  the 
Doones  went  on  as  they  listed,  and  none  saw  fit  to  meddle 
with  them.  For  the  only  man  avIio  would  have  dared  to  come 
to  close  quarters  with  them,  that  is  to  say  Tom  Faggus,  him- 
self was  a  quarry  for  the  law,  if  ever  it  should  be  unhooded. 
Moreover  he  had  transferred  his  business  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Wantage,  in  the  county  of  Berks,  where  he  found  the  cli- 
mate dryer,  also  good  downs,  and  commons  excellent  for  gal- 
loping, and  richer  yeomen  than  ours  be,  and  better  roads  to 
rob  them  on. 

Some  folk,  who  had  wiser  attended  to  their  own  affairs,  said 
that  I  (being  sizeable  now,  and  able  to  shoot  not  badly)  ought 
to  do  something  against  those  Doones,  and  show  what  I  was 
made  of.  But  for  a  time  I  was  very  bashful,  shaking  when 
called  upon  suddenly,  and  blushing  as  deep  as  a  maiden ;  for 
my  strength  was  not  come  upon  me,  and  mayhap  I  had  grown 
in  front  of  it.  And  again,  though  I  loved  my  father  still,  and 
would  fire  at  a  word  about  him,  I  saw  not  how  it  would  do 
him  good  for  me  to  harm  his  injurers.  Some  races  are  of 
revengeful  kind,  and  will  for  years  pursue  their  wrong,  and 
sacrifice  this  world  and  the  next,  for  a  moment's  foul  satisfac- 
tion; but  methinks  this  comes  of  some  black  blood,  perverted 
and  never  purified.  And  I  doubt  but  men  of  true  English 
birth  are  stouter  than  so  to  be  twisted,  though  some  of  the 
women  may  take  that  turn,  if  their  own  life  runs  unkindly. 

Let  that  pass  —  I  am  never  good  at  talking  of  things  beyond 
me.  All  I  know  is,  that  if  I  had  met  the  Doone  who  liad 
killed  mj  father,  I  would  gladly  have  thrashed  him  black  and 
blue,  supposing  I  were  able;  but  would  never  have  fired  a  gun 
at  him,  unless  he  began  that  game  with  me,  or  fell  upon  more 
of  my  family,  or  were  violent  among  women.  And  to  do  tliem 
justice,  my  mother  and  Annie  were  equally  kind  and  gentle; 
but  Eliza  would  flame,  and  grow  white  with  contempt,  and  not 
trust  herself  to  speak  to  us. 

Now  a  strange  thing  came  to  pass  that  winter,  when  I  was 
twenty-one  years  old,  a  very  strange  thing,  whicli  affrighted 
the  rest,  and  made  me  feel  uncomfortable.  Not  tliat  there 
was  anything  in  it,  to  do  harm  to  any  one,  only  that  none 

VOL.  I.  —  6 


82  LORNA   BOONE. 

could  explain  it,  except  by  attributing  it  to  the  devil.  The 
weather  was  very  mild  and  open,  and  scarcely  any  snow  fell ;  at 
any  rate  none  lay  on  the  ground,  even  for  an  hour,  in  the 
highest  part  of  Exnioor ;  a  thing  which  I  knew  not  before  nor 
since,  as  long  as  I  can  remember.  But  the  nights  were  won- 
derfully dark,  as  though  with  no  stars  in  the  heaven;  and 
all  day  long  the  mists  were  rolling  upon  the  hills  and  down 
them,  as  if  the  whole  land  were  a  wash-house.  The  moor- 
land was  full  of  snipes  and  teal,  and  curlews  flying  and  cry- 
ing, and  lapwings  flapping  heavily,  and  ravens  hovering  round 
dead  sheep;  yet  no  redshanks  nor  dottrell,  and  scarce  any 
golden  plovers  (of  which  we  have  great  store  generally),  but 
vast  lonely  birds,  that  cried  at  night,  and  moved  the  whole 
air  with  their  pinions;  yet  no  man  ever  saw  them.  It  was 
dismal,  as  well  as  dangerous  now,  for  any  man  to  go  fowling 
(which  of  late  I  loved  much  in  the  winter),  because  the  fog 
would  come  down  so  thick  that  the  pan  of  the  gun  was  reek- 
ing, and  the  fowl  out  of  sight  ere  the  powder  kindled,  and 
then  the  sound  of  the  piece  was  so  dead,  that  the  shooter 
feared  harm,  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  But  the  danger 
was  far  less  in  this,  than  in  losing  of  the  track,  and  falling 
into  the  mire,  or  over  the  brim  of  a  precipice. 

ISTevertheless  I  must  needs  go  out,  being  young  and  very 
stupid,  and  feared  of  being  afraid;  a  fear  which  a  wise  man 
has  long  cast  by,  having  learned  of  the  manifold  dangers 
which  ever  and  ever  encompass  lis.  And  beside  this  folly 
and  wildness  of  youth,  perchance  there  was  something,  I 
know  not  what,  of  the  joy  we  have  in  uncertainty.  Mother, 
in  fear  of  my  missing  home  —  though  for  that  matter,  I  could 
smell  supper,  when  hungry,  through  a  hundred  landyards  of 
fog,  —  my  dear  mother,  who  thought  of  me  ten  times  for  one 
thought  about  herself,  gave  orders  to  ring  the  great  sheep-bell, 
which  lumg  above  the  pigeon-cote,  every  ten  minutes  of  the 
day ;  and  the  sound  came  through  the  plaits  of  fog,  and  I  was 
vexed  about  it,  like  the  letters  of  a  copy-book.  It  reminded 
me,  too,  of  Blundell's  bell,  and  the  grief  to  go  into  school  again. 

But  during  those  two  months  of  fog  (for  we  had  it  all  the 
winter),  the  saddest  and  the  heaviest  thing  was  to  stand  beside 
the  sea.  To  be  upon  the  beach  yourself,  and  see  the  long 
waves  coming  in;  to  know  that  they  are  long  waves,  but  only 
see  a  piece  of  them ;  and  to  hear  them  lifting  roundly,  swell- 
ing over  smooth  green  rocks,  plashing  down  in  the  hollow 
corners,  but  bearing  on  all  the  same  as  ever,  soft  and  sleek 
and  sorrowful,  till  their  little  noise  is  over. 


A  MAN  JUSTLY  POPULAR.  8S 

One  old  man  who  lived  at  Lynmoiith,  seeking  to  be  buried 
there,  having  been  more  than  half  over  the  world,  though  shy 
to  speak  about  it,  and  fain  to  come  home  to  his  birth-place, 
this  old  Will  Watcombe  (who  dwelt  by  the  water)  said  that 
our  strange  winter  arose  from  a  thing  he  called  the  "Gulf- 
stream  "  rushing  up  channel  suddenly.  He  said  it  was  hot 
water,  almost  fit  for  a  man  to  shave  with,  and  it  threw  all  our 
cold  water  out,  and  ruined  the  fish  and  the  spawning-time,  and 
a  cold  spring  would  come  after  it.  I  was  fond  of  going  to 
Lynmouth  on  Sunday,  to  hear  this  old  man  talk,  for  some- 
times he  would  discourse  with  me,  when  nobody  else  could 
move  him.  He  told  me  that  this  powerful  flood  set  in  upon 
our  coast  so  hard,  sometimes  once  in  ten  years,  and  some- 
times not  for  fifty,  and  the  Lord  only  knew  the  sense  of  it; 
but  that  when  it  came,  therewith  came  warmth,  and  clouds, 
and  fog,  and  moisture,  and  nuts,  and  fruit,  and  even  shells; 
and  all  the  tides  were  thrown  abroad.  As  for  nuts  he  winked 
awhile,  and  chewed  a  piece  of  tobacco ;  yet  did  I  not  compre- 
hend him.  Only  afterwards  I  heard  that  nuts  with  liquid 
kernels  came,  travelling  on  the  Gulf -stream;  for  never  before 
was  known  so  much  foreign  cordial  landed  upon  our  coast, 
floating  ashore  by  mistake  in  the  fog,  and  (what  with  the  toss- 
ing and  the  mist)  too  much  astray  to  learn  its  duty. 

Folk,  who  are  ever  too  prone  to  talk,  said  that  Will  Wat- 
combe himself  knew  better  than  any  body  else,  about  tliis  drift 
of  the  Gulf-stream,  and  the  places  where  it  would  come  ashore, 
and  the  cave  that  took  the  indraught.  But  De  Whichehalse, 
our  great  magistrate,  certified  that  there  was  no  proof  of 
unlawful  importation;  neither  good  cause  to  suspect  it,  at  a 
time  of  Christian  charity.  And  we  knew  that  it  Avas  a  foul 
thing  for  some  quarrymen  to  say,  that  night  after  night  they 
had  been  digging  a  new  cellar  at  Ley  Manor  to  hold  the  little 
marks  of  respect  found  in  the  caverns  at  liigh-water  weed. 
Let  that  be:  it  is  none  of  my  business  to  speak  evil  of  digni- 
ties; only  we  common  people  joked  of  the  "Gulp-stream," 
as  we  called  it. 

But  the  thing  which  astonished  and  frightened  us  so,  was 
not,  I  do  assure  you,  the  landing  (jf  foreign  spirits,  nor  the 
loom  of  a  lugger  at  twilight  in  the  gloom  of  the  winter  moon- 
rise.  That  which  made  us  crouch  in  by  the  fire,  or  draw  the 
bed-clothes  over  us,  and  try  to  tliink  of  sonuithing  else,  was 
a  strange  mysterious  sound. 

At  gray  of  night,  wlien  tlie  sun  was  gone,  and  no  red  in  the 
west   remained,   neither  wore   stirs    foi'tbconiing.   suddenly  a 


84  LOBNA   BOONE. 

wailing  voice  rose  along  the  valleys,  and  a  sound  in  the  air, 
as  of  people  running.  It  mattered  not  whether  you  stood  on 
the  moor,  or  crouched  behind  rocks  away  from  it,  or  down 
among  reedy  j^laces;  all  as  one  the  sound  would  come,  now 
from  the  heart  of  the  earth  beneath,  now  overhead  bearing 
down  on  you.  And  then  there  was  rushing  of  something  by, 
and  melancholy  laughter,  and  the  hair  of  a  man  would  stand 
on  end,  before  he  could  reason  properly. 

God,  in  His  mercy,  knows  that  I  am  stupid  enough  for  any 
man,  and  very  slow  of  impression,  nor  ever  could  bring  myself 
to  believe  that  our  Father  would  let  the  evil  one  get  the  upper 
hand  of  us.  But  when  I  had  heard  that  sound  three  times,  in 
the  lonely  gloom  of  the  evening  fog,  and  the  hush  that  fol- 
lowed, the  lines  of  air,  I  was  loth  to  go  abroad  by  niglit,  even 
so  far  as  the  stables,  and  loved  the  light  of  a  candle  more,  and 
the  glow  of  a  fire  with  company. 

There  were  divers  stories  about  it,  told  all  over  the  breadth 
of  the  moorland.  But  those  who  had  heard  it  most  often 
declared  that  it  must  be  the  wail  of  a  woman's  voice,  and  the 
rustle  of  robes  fleeing  horribly,  and  fiends  in  the  fog  going 
after  her.  To  that  however  I  paid  no  heed,  when  any  body 
was  with  me;  only  we  drew  more  close  together,  and  barred 
the  doors  at  sunset. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MASTER    HUCKABACK    COMES    IN. 

Mr.  Reuben  Huckaback,  whom  many  good  folk  in  Dulver- 
ton  will  remember  long  after  my  time,  was  my  mother's  uncle, 
being  indeed  her  mother's  brother.  He  owned  the  very  best 
shop  in  the  town,  and  did  a  fine  trade  in  soft  ware,  especially 
when  the  pack-horses  came  safely  in  at  Christmas-time.  And 
we  being  now  his  only  kindred  (except  indeed  his  grand- 
daughter, little  Ruth  Huckaback,  of  whom  no  one  took  any 
heed),  mother  beheld  it  a  Christian  duty  to  keep  as  well  as 
could  be  with  him,  both  for  love  of  a  nice  old  man,  and  for 
the  sake  of  her  children.  And  truly,  the  Dulverton  people 
said  that  he  was  the  richest  man  in  their  town,  and  could  buy 
up  half  the  county  armigers ;  ay,  and  if  it  came  to  that,  they 
would  like  to  see  any  man,  at  Bampton,  or  at  Wivelscombe, 
and  you  might  say  almost  Taunton,  who  could  put  down 
golden  Jacobus  and  Carolus  against  him. 


MASTER   HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  86 

Now  this  old  gentleman  —  so  tliey  called  him,  according  to 
his  money;  and  I  have  seen  many  worse  ones,  more  violent 
and  less  wealthy  —  he  must  needs  come  away  that  time  to 
spend  the  New  Year-tide  with  us ;  not  that  he  wanted  to  do  it 
(for  he  hated  country  life),  but  because  my  mother  pressing, 
as  mothers  will  do  to  a  good  bag  of  gold,  had  wrung  a  prom- 
ise from  him;  and  the  only  boast  of  his  life  was,  that  never 
yet  had  he  broken  his  word,  at  least  since  he  opened  business. 

Now  it  pleased  God,  that  Christmas-time  (in  spite  of  all 
the  fogs)  to  send  safe  home  to  Dulverton,  and  what  was  more, 
with  their  loads  quite  safe,  a  goodly  string  of  pack-horses. 
Nearly  half  of  their  charge  was  for  Uncle  Reuben,  and  he 
knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Then,  having  balanced 
his  debits  and  credits,  and  set  the  writs  running  against 
defaulters,  as  behoves  a  good  Christian  at  Christmas-tide,  he 
saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  off  towards  Oare,  with  a  warm 
stout  coat  upon  him,  leaving  Ruth  and  his  headman  plenty  to 
do,  and  little  to  eat,  until  they  should  see  him  again. 

It  had  been  settled  between  us,  that  we  should  expect  him 
soon  after  noon,  on  the  last  day  of  December.  For  the  Doones 
being  lazy  and  fond  of  bed,  as  the  manner  is  of  dishonest  folk, 
the  surest  way  to  escape  them  was  to  travel  before  they  were 
up  and  about,  to  wit,  in  the  forenoon  of  the  day.  But  herein 
we  reckoned  without  our  host :  for  being  in  high  festivity,  as 
became  good  Papists,  the  robbers  were  too  lazy,  it  seems,  to  take 
the  trouble  of  going  to  bed;  and  forth  they  rode  on  the  Old 
Year-morning,  not  with  any  view  to  business,  but  purely  in 
search  of  mischief. 

We  had  put  off  our  dinner  till  one  o'clock  (which  to  me  was 
a  sad  foregoing),  and  there  was  to  be  a  brave  supper  at  six  of 
the  clock,  upon  New  Year's-eve;  and  the  singer^  to  come  with 
their  lanthorns,  and  do  it  outside  the  parlor-window,  and  then 
have  hot  cup  till  their  heads  should  go  round,  after  making 
away  with  the  victuals.  For  although  there  was  nobody  now 
in  our  family  to  be  churchwarden  of  Oare,  it  was  well  admitted 
that  we  were  the  people  entitled  alone  to  that  dignity;  and 
tliough  Nicholas  Snowe  was  in  office  by  name,  he  managed  it 
only  by  mother's  advice;  and  a  pretty  mess  ho  made  of  it,  so 
that  every  one  longed  for  a  Ridd  again,  soon  as  ever  I  should 
be  old  enough.  —  This  Nicholas  Snowe  was  to  come  in  the  even- 
ing, with  his  three  tall  comely  daughters,  strapping  girls,  and 
well  skilled  in  the  dairy;  and  the  story  was  all  over  tlie  parish, 
on  a  stupid  conceit  of  John  Fry's,  tliat  I  should  have  been  in 
love  with  rill  tlirnc,  if  tluiro  had  been  but  one  of  them.     These 


86  LOBNA  BOONE. 

Snowes  were  to  come,  and  come  they  did,  partly  because  Mr. 
Huckaback  liked  to  see  fine  young  maidens,  and  partly  because 
none  but  Nicholas  Snowe  could  smoke  a  pipe  yet  all  around 
our  parts,  except  of  the  very  high  people,  whom  we  durst  never 
invite.  And  Uncle  Ben,  as  we  all  knew  well,  was  a  great  hand 
at  his  pipe,  and  would  sit  for  hours  over  it,  in  our  warm 
chimney-corner,  and  never  want  to  say  a  word,  unless  it  were 
inside  him;  only  he  liked  to  have  somebody  there  over  against 
him  smoking. 

Now  when  I  came  in,  before  one  o'clock,  after  seeing  to  the 
cattle  —  for  the  day  was  thicker  than  ever,  and  we  must  keep 
the  cattle  close  at  home,  if  we  wished  to  see  any  more  of  them 
—  I  fully  expected  to  find  Uncle  Ben  sitting  in  the  fireplace, 
lifting  one  cover  and  then  another,  as  his  favorite  manner  was, 
and  making  sweet  mouths  over  them ;  for  he  loved  our  bacon 
rarely,  and  they  had  no  good  leeks  at  Dulverton ;  and  he  was 
a  man  who  always  wou.ld  see  his  business  done  himself.  But 
there  instead  of  my  finding  him  with  his  quaint  dry  face  pulled 
out  at  me,  and  then  shut  up  sharp  not  to  be  cheated  —  who 
should  run  out  but  Betty  Muxworthy,  and  poke  me  with  a 
saucepan-lid. 

"  Get  out  of  that  now,  Betty,"  I  said  in  my  politest  manner; 
for  really  Betty  was  now  become  a  great  domestic  evil.  She 
would  have  her  own  way  so,  and  of  all  things  the  most  distress- 
ful was  for  a  man  to  try  to  reason  with  her. 

"  Zider-press, "  cried  Betty  again,  for  she  thought  it  a  fine 
joke  to  call  me  that,  because  of  my  size,  and  my  hatred  of  it; 
"here  be  a  rare  get  up,  anyhow." 

"  A  rare  good  dinner,  you  mean,  Betty.  Well,  and  I  have 
a  rare  good  appetite."  With  that  I  wanted  to  go  and  smell  it, 
and  not  to  stop  for  Betty. 

"  Troost  thee  for  thiccy,  Jan  Ridd.  But  thee  must  keep  it 
bit  langer,  I  rackon.  Her  baint  coom.  Master  Zider-press. 
Whatt'e  mak  of  that  now?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Uncle  Ben  has  not  arrived  yet, 
Betty?" 

"  Eaived !  I  knaws  nout  about  that,  whuther  a  hath  or  noo. 
Only  I  tell  'e,  her  baint  coom.  E-ackon  them  Dooneses  hath 
gat  'un." 

And  Betty,  who  hated  Uncle  Ben,  because  he  never  gave  her 
a  groat,  and  she  was  not  allowed  to  dine  with  him,  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  Betty  Muxworthy  grinned  all  across,  and  poked  me 
again  with  the  greasy  saucepan-cover.  But  I,  misliking  so  to 
be  treated,  strode  through  the  kitchen  indignantly,  for  Betty 
behaved  to  me  even  now,  as  if  I  were  only  Eliza. 


MASTER  nUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  87 

"  Oh  Johnuy,  Johnny, "  my  mother  cried,  running  out  of  the 
grand  show-parlor,  where  the  ease  of  stuffed  birds  was,  and 
peacock  feathers,  and  the  white  hare  killed  by  grandfather: 
"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come  at  last.  There  is  something  sadly 
amiss,  Johnny." 

Mother  had  upon  her  wrists  something  very  wonderful,  of 
the  nature  of  fal-lal  as  we  say,  and  for  which  she  had  a,n  inborn 
turn,  being  of  good  draj^er  family,  and  polislied  above  tlie  yeo- 
manry. Nevertheless  I  could  never  bear  it,  partly  because  I 
felt  it  to  be  out  of  place  in  our  good  farm-house,  partly  because 
I  hate  frippery,  partly  because  it  seemed  to  me  to  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  father,  and  partly  because  I  never  could  tell  the 
reason  of  my  hating  it.  And  yet  tlie  poor  soul  liad  put  them 
on,  not  to  show  her  hands  off  (which  were  above  her  station), 
but  simply  for  her  children's  sake,  because  Uncle  Ben  had 
given  them.  But  another  thing,  I  never  could  bear  for  man  or 
woman  to  call  me,  "Johnny."  "Jack,"  or  "John,"  I  cared 
not  which ;  and  that  was  honest  enough,  and  no  smallness  of 
me  there,  I  say. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  the  matter,  then?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  need  not  be  angry,  Johnny.  I  only  hope  it 
is  nothing  to  grieve  about,  instead  of  being  angry.  You  are 
very  sweet-tempered,  I  know,  John  Ridd,  and  perhaps  a  little 
too  sweet  at  times,"  —  here  she  meant  the  Snowe  girls,  and  I 
hanged  my  head  —  "but  what  would  you  say  if  tlie  people 
there  "  —  she  never  would  call  them  "  Doones  "  —  "  had  gotten 
your  poor  Uncle  Reuben,  horse,  and  Sunday  coat,  and  all?" 

"  Why,  mother,  I  sliould  be  sorry  for  them.  He  would  set  up 
a  shop  by  the  river-side,  and  come  away  with  all  their  money." 

"  That  all  you  have  to  say,  John !  And  my  dinner  done  to  a 
very  turn,  and  the  sujjper  all  tit  to  go  down,  and  no  worry,  only 
to  eat  and  ])e  done  with  it!  And  all  the  new  plates  come  from 
Watchett,  with  the  Watchett  blue  upon  them,  at  the  risk  of 
the  lives  of  every  body,  and  the  ca])ias  from  good  Aunt  Jane  for 
stuiting  a  curlew  witli  onion  before  he;  begins  to  get  cold,  and 
make  a  woodcock  of  him,  and  the  way  to  turn  the  flap  over  in 
the  inside  of  a  roasting  pig" 

"Well,  mother  dear,  I  am  very  sorry.  But  let  us  have  our 
dinner.  You  know  we  promised  not  to  wait  for  him  after  one 
o'clock;  and  you  only  make  us  hungry.  Every  tiling  will  be 
spoiled,  mother,  and  what  a  pity  to  tliiidc  of!  After  that  1 
will  go  to  seek  for  him  in  tlu;  thick  of  the  fog,  like  a  needle  in 
a  liay-band.  That  is  to  say,  unless  you  tliink "  —  for  she 
lr)ok(!d  very  gi'ave  abtmt  it — "unless  you  really  tliink, 
mother,  that  1  ought  to  go  without  dinner." 


88  LOENA   BOONE. 

"  Oh  no,  Jolm,  I  never  thought  that,  thank  God !  Bless  Him 
for  my  children's  appetites ;  and  what  is  Uncle  Ben  to  them?  " 

So  we  made  a  very  good  dinner  indeed,  though  wishing  that 
he  could  have  some  of  it,  and  wondering  how  much  to  leave 
for  him;  and  then,  as  no  sound  of  his  horse  had  been  heard,  I 
set  out  with  my  gun  to  look  for  him. 

I  followed  the  track  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  from  the  farm- 
yard, where  the  sledd-marks  are  —  for  we  have  no  wheels  upon 
Exmoor  yet,  nor  ever  shall,  I  suppose ;  though  a  dunder-headed 
man  tried  it  last  winter,  and  broke  his  axle  piteously,  and  was 
nigh  to  break  his  neck  —  and  after  that  I  went  all  along  on  the 
ridge  of  the  rabbit-cleve,  with  the  brook  running  thin  in  the 
bottom;  and  then  down  to  the  Lynn -stream,  and  leaped  it,  and 
so  up  the  hill  and  the  moor  beyond.  The  fog  hung  close  all 
around  me  there,  when  I  turned  the  crest  of  the  highland,  and 
the  gorse,  both  before  and  behind  me,  looked  like  a  man  crouch- 
ing down  in  ambush.  But  still  there  was  a  good  cloud  of  day- 
light, being  scarce  three  of  the  clock  yet,  and  when  a  lead  of 
red  deer  came  across,  I  could  tell  them  from  sheep  even  now. 
I  was  half  inclined  to  shoot  at  them,  for  the  children  did  love 
venison ;  but  they  drooped  their  heads  so,  and  looked  so  faith- 
ful, that  it  seemed  hard  measure  to  do  it.  If  one  of  them  had 
bolted  away,  no  doubt  I  had  let  go  at  him. 

After  that  I  kept  on  the  track,  trudging  very  stoutly, 
for  nigh  upon  three  miles,  and  my  beard  (now  beginning  to 
grow  at  some  length)  was  full  of  great  drops  and  prickly, 
whereat  I  was  very  proud.  I  had  not  so  much  as  a  dog  with 
me,  and  the  place  was  unkid  and  lonesome,  and  the  rolling 
clouds  very  desolate;  and  now  if  a  wild  sheep  ran  across, 
he  was  scared  at  me  as  an  enemy ;  and  I  for  my  part  could  not 
tell  the  meaning  of  the  marks  on  him.  We  called  all  this  part 
*'  Gibbet-moor, "  not  being  in  our  parish ;  but  though  there  were 
gibbets  enough  upon  it,  most  part  of  the  bodies  was  gone,  for  the 
value  of  the  chains,  they  said,  and  the  teaching  of  young  chirur- 
geons. 

But  of  all  this  I  had  little  fear,  being  no  more  a  school-boy 
now,  but  a  youth  well  acquaint  with  Exmoor,  and  the  wise  art 
of  the  sign-posts,  whereby  a  man,  who  barred  the  road,  now 
leads  us  along  it  with  his  finger-bones,  so  far  as  rogues  allow 
him.  My  carbine  was  loaded  and  freshly  primed,  and  I  knew 
myself  to  be  even  now  a  match  in  strength  for  any  two  men  of 
the  size  around  our  neighborhood,  except  in  the  Glen  Doone. 

"  Girt  Jan  Ridd,"  I  was  called  already,  and  folk  grew  feared 
to  wrestle  with  me ;  though  I  was  tired  of  hearing  about  it,  and 


MASTER   nUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  89 

often  longed  to  be  smaller.  And  most  of  all  iipon  Sundays, 
when  I  had  to  make  way  up  our  little  church,  and  the  maidens 
tittered  at  me. 

The  soft  white  mist  came  thicker  around  me,  as  the  evening 
fell ;  and  the  peat-ricks  here  and  there,  and  the  furze-hucks  of 
the  summer-time,  were  all  out  of  shape  in  the  twist  of  it.  By- 
and-by,  I  began  to  doubt  where  I  was,  or  how  come  there,  not 
having  seen  a  gibbet  lately ;  and  then  I  heard  the  draught  of 
tlie  wind  up  a  liolloAV  place  with  rocks  to  it;  and  for  the  first 
time  fear  broke  out  (like  cold  sweat)  upon  me.  And  yet  I  knew 
what  a  fool  I  was,  to  fear  nothing  but  a  sound!  But  when  I 
stopped  to  listen,  there  was  no  sound,  more  than  a  beating 
noise,  and  that  was  all  inside  me.  Therefore  I  went  on  again, 
making  company  of  my  whistle,  and  keeping  my  gun  quite 
ready. 

Now  when  I  came  to  an  unknown  place,  where  a  stone  was 
set  up  endwise,  with  a  faint  red  cross  upon  it,  and  a  polish 
from  some  conflict,  I  gathered  my  courage  to  stop  and  think, 
having  sped  on  the  way  too  hotly.  Against  that  stone  I  set 
my  gun,  trying  my  spirit  to  leave  it  so,  but  keeping  with  half 
a  hand  for  it;  and  then  what  to  do  next  was  the  wonder.  As 
for  finding  Uncle  Ben  —  that  was  his  own  business,  or  at  any 
rate  his  executor's;  first  I  had  to  find  myself,  and  plentifully 
would  thank  God  to  find  that  self  at  home  again,  for  the  sake 
of  all  our  family. 

The  volumes  of  the  mist  came  rolling  at  me  (like  'great  packs 
of  wool,  pillowed  up  with  sleepiness),  and  between  them  there 
was  nothing  more  than  waiting  for  the  next  one.  Then  every- 
thing went  out  of  sight,  and  glad  was  I  of  the  stone  behind  me, 
and  view  of  mine  own  shoes.  Anon  a  distant  noise  went  by 
me,  as  of  many  horses  galloping,  and  in  my  fright  I  set  my 
gun,  and  said,  "God  send  something  to  shoot  at."  Yet  noth- 
ing came,  and  my  gun  fell  back,  without  my  will  to  lower  it. 

But  presently,  while  I  was  thinking  "What  a  fool  I  am!" 
arose  as  if  from  below  my  feet,  so  that  the  great  stone  trembled, 
that  long  lamenting  lonesome  sound,  as  of  an  evil  spirit  not 
knowing  what  to  do  witli  it.  For  the  moment  I  stood  like  a 
root,  witliout  either  hand  or  foot  to  help  me;  and  tlie  hair  of 
my  head  began  to  crawl,  lifting  my  hat,  as  a  snail  lifts  his 
house;  and  my  lieart,  like  a  shuttle,  wont  to  and  fro.  l'>ut 
finding  no  harm  to  come  of  it,  neither  visible  form  approach- 
ing, I  wiped  my  forehead,  and  hoped  for  the  best,  and  resolved 
to  run  every  step  of  the  way,  till  I  drew  our  big  bolt  behind 
me. 


90  LORNA   DOONE. 

Yet  here  again  I  was  disappointed,  for  no  sooner  was  I  come 
to  the  crossways  by  the  black  pool  in  the  hole,  but  I  heard 
through  the  patter  of  my  own  feet  a  rough  low  sound,  very  close 
in  the  fog,  as  of  a  hobbled  sheep  a-coughmg.  I  listened,  and 
feared,  and  yet  listened  again,  though  I  wanted  not  to  hear  it. 
For  being  in  haste  of  the  homeward  road,  and  all  my  heart 
having  heels  to  it,  loth  I  was  to  stop  in  the  dusk,  for  the  sake 
of  an  aged  wether.  Yet  partly  my  love  of  all  animals,  and 
partly  my  fear  of  the  farmer's  disgrace,  compelled  me  to  go  to 
the  succor,  for  the  noise  was  coming  nearer.  A  dry  short 
wheezing  sound  it  was,  barred  with  coughs,  and  want  of  breath; 
but  thus  I  made  the  meaning  of  it. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me !  0  Lord,  upon  my  soul  have 
mercy!  An'  if  I  cheated  Sam  Hicks  last  week,  Lord  knowest 
how  well  he  deserved  it,  and  lied  in  every  stocking's  mouth 
—  oh  Lord,  where  be  I  a-going?  " 

These  words,  with  many  jogs  between  them,  came  to  me 
through  the  darkness,  and  then  a  long  groan,  and  a  choking.  I 
made  towards  the  sound,  as  nigh  as  ever  I  could  guess,  and 
presently  was  met,  point-blank,  by  the  head  of  a  mountain- 
pony.  Upon  its  back  lay  a  man,  bound  down,  with  his  feet  on 
the  neck  and  his  head  to  the  tail,  and  his  arms  falling  down 
like  stirrups.  The  wild  little  nag  was  scared  of  its  life  by  the 
unaccustomed  burden,  and  had  been  tossing  and  rolling  hard, 
in  desire  to  get  ease  of  it. 

Before  the  little  horse  could  turn,  I  caught  him,  jaded  as  he 
was,  by  his  wet  and  grizzled  forelock,  and  he  saw  that  it  was 
vain  to  struggle,  but  strove  to  bite  me  none  the  less,  until  I 
smote  him  upon  the  nose. 

"  Good  and  worthy  sir,"  I  said  to  the  man  who  was  riding  so 
roughly;  "fear  nothing:  no  harm  shall  come  to  thee." 

"  Help,  good  friend,  whoever  thou  art, "  he  gasped,  but  could 
not  look  at  me,  because  his  neck  was  jerked  so ;  "  God  hath 
sent  thee;  and  not  to  rob  me,  because  it  is  done  already." 

"  What,  Uncle  Ben !  "  I  cried,  letting  go  the  horse,  in  amaze- 
ment that  the  richest  man  in  Dulverton  —  "  Uncle  Ben  here  in 
this  plight!     What,  Mr.  Reuben  Huckaback!  " 

"  An  honest  hosier  and  draper,  serge  and  long-cloth  ware- 
houseman "  —  he  groaned  from  rib  to  rib  —  "  at  the  sign  of  the 
Gartered  Kitten,  in  the  loyal  town  of  Dulverton.  For  God's 
sake,  let  me  down,  good  fellow,  from  this  accursed  hurdle- 
chine  ;  and  a  groat  of  good  money  will  I  pay  thee,  safe  in  my 
house  to  Dulverton ;  but  take  notice  that  the  horse  is  mine,  no 
less  than  the  nag  they  robbed  from  me." 


MASTER   HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  91 

''What,  Uncle  Ben,  dost  thou  not  know  me,  thy  dutiful 
nephew,  John  Kidd?" 

Not  to  make  a  long  story  of  it,  I  cut  the  thongs  that  bound 
him,  and  set  him  astride  on  the  little  horse ;  but  he  was  too 
weak  to  stay  so.  Therefore  I  mounted  him  on  my  back,  turn- 
ing the  horse  into  horse-steps;  and  leading  the  pony  by  the 
cords,  which  I  fastened  around  his  nose,  set  out  for  Plover's 
Barrows. 

Uncle  Ben  went  fast  asleep  on  my  back,  being  jaded  and 
shaken  beyond  his  strength,  for  a  man  of  three-score  and  five ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  felt  assured  of  safety,  he  would  talk  no  more. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,  he  snored  so  loudly,  that  I  could  almost 
believe  that  fearful  noise  in  the  fog  every  night  came  all  the 
way  from  Dulverton. 

Now  as  soon  as  ever  I  brought  him  in,  we  set  him  up  in  the 
chimney-corner,  comfortable  and  handsome ;  and  it  was  no  little 
delight  to  me  to  get  him  off  my  back;  for,  like  his  own  fortune. 
Uncle  Ben  was  of  a  good  round  figure.  He  gave  his  long  coat 
a  shake  or  two,  and  he  stamped  about  in  the  kitchen,  until  he 
was  sure  of  his  whereabouts,  and  then  he  fell  asleep  again,  until 
supper  sliould  be  ready. 

"  He  shall  marry  Kuth, "  he  said  by-and-by,  to  himself  and 
not  to  me;  "he  shall  marry  Ruth  for  this,  and  have  my  little 
savings,  soon  as  they  be  worth  the  having.  Very  little  as  yet, 
very  little  indeed;  and  ever  so  much  gone  to-day,  along  of  them 
rascal  robbers." 

My  mother  made  a  dreadful  stir,  to  see  Uncle  Ben  in  such 
a  sorry  plight  as  this ;  so  I  left  him  to  her  care  and  Annie's ; 
and  soon  they  fed  him  rarely,  while  I  went  out  to  look  to  tlie 
comfort  of  the  captured  pony.  And  in  trutli  he  was  worth  the 
catching,  and  served  us  very  well  afterwards;  though  Uncle 
Ben  was  inclined  to  claim  him  for  his  business  at  Dulverton, 
where  they  have  carts,  and  that  like.  "But,"  I  said,  "you 
shall  have  him,  sir,  and  welcome,  if  you  will  only  ride  iiirn 
home,  as  first  I  found  you  riding  him."  And  with  that  he 
dropp(;d  it. 

A  very  strange  old  man  he  was,  short  in  his  manner,  thougli 
long  of  body,  glad  to  do  the  contrary  thing  to  what  any  one 
expected  of  him,  and  always  looking  sharply  at  people  as  if  he 
feared  to  be  cheated.  This  surprised  me  much  at  first,  because 
it  showed  his  ignorance  of  what  we  farmers  are  —  an  upriglit 
race,  as  you  may  find,  scarcely  ever  cheating  indeed,  except 
upon  market-day,  and  even  then  no  more  tlian  may  be  helped, 
l»y  reason  of  buyers  expecting  it.     Nov:  our  simple  ways  were 


92  LORNA   DOONE. 

a  puzzle  to  him,  as  I  told  him  very  often;  but  he  only  laughed, 
and  rubbed  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  dry  shining  hand; 
and  I  think  he  shortly  began  to  languish  for  want  of  some  one 
to  higgle  with.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  give  him  the  pony, 
because  he  thought  himself  cheated  in  that  case ;  only  he  would 
conclude  that  I  did  it  with  some  view  to  a  legacy. 

Of  course,  the  Doones,  and  nobody  else,  had  robbed  good 
Uncle  Eeuben ;  and  then  they  grew  sportive,  and  took  his  horse, 
an  especially  sober  nag,  and  bound  the  master  upon  the  wild 
one,  for  a  little  change  as  they  told  him.  For  two  or  three 
hours  they  had  fine  enjoyment,  chasing  him  through  the  fog, 
and  making  much  sport  of  his  groanings;  and  then  waxing 
hungry  they  went  their  way,  and  left  him  to  opportunity. 
Now  Mr.  Huckaback,  growing  able  to  walk  in  a  few  days'  time, 
became  thereupon  impatient,  and  could  not  be  brought  to 
understand  why  he  should  have  been  robbed  at  all. 

"I  have  never  deserved  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  not  knowing 
much  of  Providence,  except  with  a  small  p  to  it;  "I  have  never 
deserved  it,  and  will  not  stand  it ;  in  the  name  of  our  lord  the 
King,  not  I !  "  At  other  times  he  would  burst  forth  thus :  — 
"Three-score  years  and  five,  have  I  lived  an  honest  and  labo- 
rious life,  yet  never  was  I  robbed  before.  And  now  to  be  robbed 
in  my  old  age;  to  be  robbed  for  the  first  time  now!  " 

Thereupon,  we  would  kindly  tell  him,  how  truly  thankful  he 
ought  to  be,  for  never  having  been  robbed  before,  in  spite  of 
living  so  long  in  this  world;  and  how  he  was  taking  a  very 
ungrateful,  not  to  say  ungracious,  view,  in  thus  repining  and 
feeling  aggrieved;  when  any  one  else  would  have  knelt  and 
thanked  God,  for  enjoying  so  long  an  immunity.  But  say  what 
we  would,  it  was  all  as  one.  Uncle  Ben  stuck  fast  to  it,  that 
he  had  nothing  to  thank  God  for. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A   MOTION   WHICH   ENDS    IN   A   MULL. 

Instead  of  minding  his  New- Year  pudding,  Master  Hucka- 
back carried  on  so,  about  his  mighty  grievance,  that  at  last  we 
began  to  think  there  must  be  something  in  it,  after  all;  espe- 
cially as  he  assured  us,  that  choice  and  costly  presents  for  the 
young  people  of  our  household  were  among  the  goods  divested. 
But  mother  told  him,  her  children  had  plenty,  and  wanted  no 


A   MOTION    WHICH  E^'DS  IX  A   MULL.  93 

gold  and  silver;  and  little  Eliza  spoke  up  and  said,  "You  can 
give  us  the  pretty  things,  Uncle  Ben,  when  Ave  come  in  the 
summer  to  see  you." 

Our  mother  reproved  Eliza  for  this,  although  it  was  the  heel 
of  her  own  foot;  and  then  to  satisfy  our  uncle,  she  promised 
to  call  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe,  to  be  of  our  council  that  even- 
ing; '"and  if  the  young  maidens  would  kindly  come,  without 
taking  thought  to  smoothe  themselves,  why  it  would  be  all  the 
merrier ;  and  who  knew  but  what  Uncle  Huckaback  might  bless 
the  day  of  his  robbery,  &c.  &c.  —  and  thorough  good  honest 
girls  they  were,  fit  helpmates  either  for  shop  or  farm."  All 
of  which  was  meant  for  me;  but  I  stuck  to  my  platter,  and 
answered  not. 

In  the  evening  Farmer  Snowe  came  up,  leading  his  davighters 
after  him,  like  tillies  trimmed  for  a  fair;  and  Uncle  Ben,  who 
had  not  seen  them  on  the  night  of  his  mishap  (because  word 
had  been  sent  to  stop  them),  was  mightily  pleased,  and  very 
pleasant,  according  to  his  town-bred  ways.  The  damsels  had 
seen  good  company,  and  soon  got  over  their  fear  of  his  wealth, 
and  played  him  a  number  of  merry  pranks,  which  made  our 
mother  quite  jealous  for  Annie,  who  was  always  shy  and  diffi- 
dent. However,  when  the  hot  cup  was  done,  and  before  the 
mulled  Avine  was  ready,  we  packed  all  the  maidens  in  the  par- 
lor, and  turned  the  key  upon  them;  and  then  we  drcAV  near  to 
the  kitchen  fire,  to  hear  Uncle  Ben's  proposal.  Farmer  Snowe 
sat  up  in  the  corner,  caring  little  to  hear  about  any  thing,  but 
smoking  slowly,  and  nodding  backward,  like  a  sheep-dog  dream- 
ing. Mother  was  in  the  settle,  to  attend  him,  knitting  hard, 
as  usual ;  and  Uncle  Ben  took  to  a  three-legged  stool,  as  if  all 
but  that  had  been  thieved  from  him.  HoAvever,  he  kept  his 
breath  from  speech,  giving  privilege,  as  Avas  due,  to  mother. 

"Master  SnoAve,  you  are  well  assured,"  said  mother,  color- 
ing like  the  furze,  as  it  took  the  flame  and  fell  over,  "that  our 
kinsman  here  hath  received  rough  harm,  on  liis  peaceful  jour- 
ney from  Dulverton.  The  times  are  bad,  as  we  all  knoAv  well, 
and  there  is  no  sign  of  bettering  them;  and  if  I  could  see  our 
Lord  the  King,  I  might  say  things  to  move  him:  nevertheless, 
I  have  had  so  much  of  my  oavu  account  to  vex  for" 

"You  are  flying  out  of  the  subject,  Sarah,"  said  Uncle  Ben, 
seeing  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  tired  of  that  matter. 

"Zettle  the  pralimbinaries,"  spoke  Farmer  SnoAve,  on  appeal 
from  us;  "virst  zettle  the  pralimbinaries;  and  then  us  knows 
what  b<'  drivin'  at." 

"  Vreliminaries  be  damned,  sir,"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  losing  Iiis 


94  LOBNA  BOONE. 

temper.  "  What  preliminaries  were  there,  when  I  was  robbed, 
I  should  like  to  know?  Kobbed  in  this  parish,  as  I  can  prove, 
to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  Oare,  and  the  scandal  of  all  England. 
And  I  hold  this  parish  to  answer  for  it,  sir;  this  parish  shall 
make  it  good,  being  a  nest  of  foul  thieves  as  it  is;  ay,  farmers, 
and  yeomen,  and  all  of  you.  I  will  beggar  every  man  in  this 
parish,  if  they  be  not  beggars  already;  aj,  and  sell  your  old 
church  up  before  your  eyes,  but  what  I  will  have  back  my 
tarlatan,  time-piece,  saddle,  and  dove-tailed  nag." 

Mother  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  Farmer  Snowe;  and 
we  all  were  sorry  for  Master  Huckaback,  putting  our  hands  up, 
one  to  another,  that  nobody  should  broAvbeat  him ;  because  we 
all  knew  what  our  parish  was,  and  none  the  worse  for  strong 
language,  however  rich  the  man  might  be.  But  Uncle  Ben 
took  it  a  different  way.  He  thought  that  we  all  were  afraid 
of  him,  and  that  Oare  parish  was  but  as  Moab,  or  Edom,  for 
him  to  cast  his  shoe  over. 

"Nephew  Jack,"  he  cried,  looking  at  me,  when  I  was  think- 
ing what  to  say,  and  finding  only  emptiness;  "you  are  a  heavy 
lout,  sir;  a  bumpkin,  a  clodhopper;  and  I  shall  leave  you 
nothing,  unless  it  be  my  boots  to  grease." 

"Well,  uncle,"  I  made  answer,  "I  will  grease  your  boots,  all 
the  same  for  that,  so  long  as  you  be  our  guest,  sir." 

Now,  that  answer,  made  without  a  thought,  stood  me  for  two 
thousand  pounds;  as  you  shall  see,  by-and-by,  perhaps. 

"As  to  the  parish,"  my  mother  cried  out,  being  too  hard  set 
to  contain  herself,  "  the  parish  can  defend  itself,  and  we  may 
leave  it  to  do  so.  But  our  Jack  is  not  like  that,  sir;  and  I 
will  not  have  him  so  spoken  of.  Leave  him  indeed!  Who 
wants  you  to  do  more  than  to  leave  him  alone,  sir;  as  he 
might  have  done  you  the  other  night ;  and  as  no  one  else  would 
have  dared  to  do.  And  after  that,  to  think  so  meanly  of  me, 
and  of  my  children !  " 

"Hoity,  toity,  Sarah!  Your  children,  I  suppose,  are  the 
same  as  other  people's." 

"  That  they  are  not ;  and  never  will  be ;  and  you  ought  to 
know  it,  Uncle  Reuben,  if  any  one  in  the  world  ought.  Other 
people's  children!  " 

"  Well,  well !  "  Uncle  Reuben  answered ;  "  I  know  very  little 
of  children;  except  my  little  Ruth,  and  she  is  nothing  wonder- 
ful." 

"I  never  said  that  my  children  were  wonderful.  Uncle  Ben; 
nor  did  I  ever  think  it.     But  as  for  being  good  " 

Here  mother  fetched  out  her  handkerchief,  being  overcome 


A   MOTION    WUICII  ENDS  IN  A   MULL.  95 

by  our  goodness;  and  I  told  her,  with  my  luind  to  my  moutli, 
not  to  notice  him;  though  he  might  bo  worth  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  pounds. 

But  Farmer  Snowe  came  forward  now,  for  he  had  some  sense 
sometimes;  and  he  thought  it  was  high  time  for  him  to  say  a 
word  for  the  parish. 

"Maister  Huckaback,"  he  began,  pointing  with  his  pipe  at 
him,  the  end  that  was  done  in  sealing-wax,  "  tooching  of  what 
you  was  plaized  to  zay  'bout  this  here  parish,  and  no  oother, 
mind  me  no  oother  parish  but  thees,  I  use  the  vreedom,  zur, 
for  to  tell  'e,  that  thee  be  a  laiar." 

Then  Farmer  iSTicholas  Snowe  folded  his  arms  across,  with 
the  bowl  of  his  pipe  on  the  upper  one,  and  gave  me  a  nod,  and 
then  one  to  mother,  to  testify  how  he  had  done  his  duty,  and 
recked  not  what  might  come  of  it.  However,  he  got  little 
thanks  from  us ;  for  the  parish  was  nothing  at  all  to  my  mother, 
compared  with  her  children's  interests:  and  I  thought  it  liard, 
that  an  uncle  of  mine,  and  an  old  man  too,  should  be  called  a 
liar,  by  a  visitor  at  our  fireplace.  For  w^e,  in  our  rude  part  of 
the  world,  counted  it  one  of  the  worst  disgraces  that  could 
befall  a  man,  to  receive  the  lie  from  any  one.  But  Uncle  Ben, 
as  it  seems,  was  used  to  it,  in  the  way  of  trade:  just  as  people 
of  fashion  are,  in  the  way  of  courtesy. 

Therefore  the  old  man  only  looked  with  pity  at  Farmer 
Nicholas ;  and  with  a  sort  of  sorrow  too,  reflecting  how  much 
he  might  have  made  in  a  bargain  with  such  a  customer,  so 
ignorant,  and  hot-headed. 

"Now  let  us  bandy  words  no  more,"  said  mother,  very 
sweetly;  "nothing  is  easier  than  sharp  words,  except  to  wish 
them  unspoken;  as  I  do  many  and  nuiny's  the  time,  when  I 
think  of  my  good  husband.  But  now  let  us  hear  from  Uncle 
Reuben,  what  he  would  have  us  do,  to  remove  this  disgrace 
from  amongst  us,  and  to  satisfy  him  of  his  goods." 

"I  care  not  for  my  goods,  woman,"  Master  Huckaback 
answered  grandly;  "althougli  th(!y  were  of  large  value,  about 
them  I  say  nothing.  I3ut  what  I  demand  is  this,  the  punish- 
ment of  those  scoundrels." 

"Zober,  man,  zober!"  cried  Farmer  Nicholas;  "we  be  too 
naigh  Badgery  'ood,  to  spake  like  that  of  they  Dooneses." 

"Pack  of  cowards!  "  said  Uncle  Keuben,  looking  first  at  the 
door,  however;  "much  chance  I  see  of  getting  redress,  from 
the  valor  of  tliis  Exiiioor!  And  you,  Master  Snowo,  the  very 
man  whom  I  looked  to  to  raise  the  country,  and  take  tlu;  lead 
as  churchwarden  —  why  my  youngest  shopman  would  match 


96  LOBNA   BOONE. 

his  ell  against  you.  Pack  of  cowards,"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  ris- 
ing and  shaking  his  lappets  at  iis;  "don't  pretend  to  answer 
me.  Shake  you  all  oft,  that  I  do  —  nothing  more  to  do  with 
you !  " 

We  knew  it  viseless  to  answer  him,  and  conveyed  our  knowl- 
edge to  one  another,  without  any  thing  to  vex  him.  However, 
when  the  mulled  wine  was  come,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  gone 
(the  season  being  Epiphany),  Uncle  Reuben  began  to  think 
that  he  might  have  been  too  hard  with  us.  Moreover,  he  was 
beginning  now  to  respect  Farmer  Nicholas  bravely,  because  of 
the  way  he  had  smoked  his  pipes,  and  the  little  noise  made 
over  them.  And  Lizzie  and  Annie  were  doing  their  best  — 
for  now  we  had  let  the  girls  out  —  to  wake  more  lightsome 
uproar;  also  young  Faith  Snowe  was  toward,  to  keep  the  old 
men's  cups  allow,  and  hansel  them  to  their  liking. 

So  at  the  close  of  our  entertainment,  when  the  girls  were 
gone  away,  to  fetch  and  light  their  lanthorns  (over  which  they 
made  rare  noise,  blowing  each  the  other's  out,  for  counting  of 
the  sparks  to  come).  Master  Huckaback  stood  up,  without 
much  aid  from  the  crock-saw,  and  looked  at  mother  and  all 
of  us. 

"Let  no  one  leave  this  place,"  said  he,  "until  I  have  said 
what  I  want  to  say;  for  saving  of  ill-will  among  us,  and  growth 
of  cheer  and  comfort.  May  be,  I  have  carried  things  too  far, 
even  to  the  bounds  of  churlishness,  and  beyond  the  bounds  of 
good  manners.  I  wall  not  unsay  one  word  I  have  said,  having 
never  yet  done  so  in  my  life ;  but  I  would  alter  the  manner  of 
it,  and  set  it  forth  in  this  light.  If  you  folk  upon  Exmoor 
here  are  loth  and  wary  at  fighting,  yet  you  are  brave  at  better 
stuff;  the  best  and  kindest  I  ever  knew,  in  the  matter  of 
feeding." 

Here  he  sat  down,  with  a  glisten  in  his  eyes,  and  called  for 
a  little  mulled  bastard.  All  the  maids,  who  were  now  come 
back,  raced  to  get  it  for  him,  but  Annie  of  course  was  fore- 
most. And  herein  ended  the  expedition,  a  perilous  and  a  great 
one,  against  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy;  an  enterprise  over 
which  we  had  all  talked  plainly  more  than  was  good  for  us. 
For  my  part,  I  slept  well  that  night,  feeling  myself  at  home 
again,  now  that  the  fighting  was  put  aside,  and  the  fear  of  it 
turned  to  the  comfort  of  telling  each  other  —  what  we  would 
have  done. 


quo    WARRANTO?  97 

CHArTER  XV. 

QUO    WARRANTO? 

On  the  folloTving  day  Master  Huckaback,  with  some  show 
of  mystery,  demanded  from  my  mother  an  escort  into  a  dan- 
gerous part  of  the  worhi,  to  which  his  business  compelled  him. 
My  mother  made  answer  to  this,  that  he  was  kindly  welcome 
to  take  our  John  Fry  with  him ;  at  which  the  good  clothier 
laughed,  and  said  that  John  was  nothing  like  big  enough,  but 
another  John  must  serve  his  turn,  not  only  for  his  size,  but 
because  if  he  were  carried  away,  no  stone  would  be  left  unturned 
upon  Exmoor,  until  he  should  be  brought  back  again. 

Hereupon  my  mother  grew  very  pale,  and  found  fifty  reasons 
against  my  going,  each  of  them  weightier  than  the  true  one,  as 
Eliza  (who  was  jealous  of  me)  managed  to  whisper  to  Annie. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  was  quite  resolved  (directly  the  thing  was 
mentioned)  to  see  Uncle  Ileuben  through  with  it;  and  it  added 
much  to  my  self-esteem,  to  be  tlie  guard  of  so  rich  a  man. 
Therefore  I  soon  persuaded  mother,  with  her  head  upon  my 
breast,  to  let  me  go,  and  trust  in  God;  and  after  that  I  was 
greatly  vexed  to  find  that  this  dangerous  enterprise  was  nothing 
more  than  a  visit  to  the  Baron  de  Whichehalse,  to  lay  an 
information,  and  sue  a  warrant  against  the  Doones,  and  a  posse 
to  execute  it. 

Stupid  as  I  always  have  been,  and  perhaps  must  ever  be,  I 
could  well  have  told  Uncle  Reuben,  that  his  journey  was  no 
wiser  one  than  that  of  the  men  of  Gotham ;  that  he  never  would 
get  from  Hugh  de  Whichehalse  a  warrant  against  the  Doones ; 
moreover,  that  if  he  did  get  one,  his  own  wig  would  be  singed 
with  it.  But  for  divers  reasons,  I  held  my  peace ;  partly  from 
youth  and  modesty,  partly  from  desire  to  see  whatever  please 
God  I  should  see,  and  partly  from  other  causes. 

We  rode  by  way  of  Brendon  town,  Illford  Bridge,  and  Bab- 
brook,  to  avoid  the  great  hill  above  Lynmouth;  and  the  day 
being  fine  and  clear  again,  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve  at  Uncle 
Reuben  for  all  his  fine  precautions.  When  we  arrived  at  Ley 
Manor,  we  were  shown  very  civilly  into  tlie  hall,  and  refreshed 
with  good  ale,  and  collared  liead,  and  the  back  of  a  Christnuis 
pudding.  I  had  never  been  under  so  fine  a  roof  (unless  of  a 
church,  or  school)  before;  and  it  pleased  me  greatly  to  be  so 
kindly  entreated  by  liigli-born  folk.     l>ut  Uncle  Reuben  was 

VOL.  I.  —  7 


98  LORNA   BOONE. 

vexed  no  little,  at  being  set  down,  cheek  by  jowl,  with  a  man 
in  a  very  small  way  of  trade,  who  was  come  iipon  some  busi- 
ness there,  and  who  made  bold  to  drink  his  health,  after  finish- 
ing their  first  horns  of  ale. 

"Sir,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  looking  at  him,  "my  health  would 
fare  much  better,  if  you  would  pay  me  three  pounds  and  twelve 
shillings,  which  you  have  owed  me  these  five  years  back ;  and 
now  we  are  met  at  the  Justice's,  the  opportunity  is  good,  sir." 

After  that,  we  were  called  to  the  Justice-room,  where  the 
Baron  himself  was  sitting,  with  Colonel  Harding,  another  Jus- 
titiary  of  the  King's  peace,  to  help  him.  I  had  seen  the  Baron 
de  Whichehalse  before,  and  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  him,  having 
been  at  school  with  his  son  as  he  knew,  and  it  made  him  very 
kind  to  me.  And  indeed  he  was  kind  to  every  body,  and  all 
our  people  spoke  well  of  him ;  and  so  much  the  more,  because 
we  knew  that  the  house  was  in  decadence.  For  the  first  De 
Whichehalse  had  come  from  Holland,  where  he  had  been  a 
great  nobleman,  some  hundred  and  fifty  years  agone.  Being 
persecuted  for  his  religion,  when  the  Spanish  power  was  every 
thing,  he  fled  to  England  with  all  he  could  save,  and  bought 
large  estates  in  Devonshire.  Since  then  his  descendants  had 
intermarried  witli  ancient  county  families,  Cotwells,  and  Mar- 
woods,  and  Walronds,  and  Welshes  of  Pylton,  and  Chichesters 
of  Hall ;  and  several  of  the  ladies  brought  them  large  increase 
of  property.  And  so  about  fifty  years  before  the  time  of  which 
I  am  writing,  there  were  few  names  in  the  West  of  England 
thought  more  of  than  De  Whichehalse.  But  now  they  had  lost 
a  great  deal  of  land,  and  therefore  of  that  which  goes  with 
land,  as  surely  as  fame  belongs  to  earth, —  I  mean  big  reputa- 
tion. How  they  had  lost  it,  none  could  tell;  except  that  as 
the  first  descendants  had  a  manner  of  amassing,  so  the  later 
ones  were  gifted  with  a  power  of  scattering.  Whether  this 
came  of  good  Devonshire  blood  opening  the  sluice  of  Low 
Country  veins,  is  beyond  both  my  province  and  my  power  to 
inquire.  Anyhow  all  people  loved  this  last  strain  of  De 
Whichehalse,  far  more  than  the  name  had  been  liked  a  hundred 
years  agone. 

Hugh  de  Whichehalse,  a  white-haired  man,  of  very  noble 
presence,  with  friendly  blue  eyes,  and  a  sweet  smooth  forehead, 
and  aquiline  nose  quite  beautiful  (as  you  might  expect  in  a  lady 
of  birth),  and  thin  lips  curving  delicately,  this  gentleman  rose 
as  we  entered  the  room;  while  Colonel  Harding  turned  on  his 
chair,  and  struck  one  spur  against  the  other.  I  am  sure  that, 
without  knoAving  aught  of  either,  we  must  have  reverenced 


QUO   WABBANTO?  99 

rather  of  the  two  the  one  who  showed,  respect  to  us.  And  yet 
nine  gentlemen  out  of  ten  make  this  dull  mistake,  when  deal- 
ing with  the  class  below  them ! 

Uncle  Reuben  made  his  very  best  scrape,  and  then  walked  up 
to  the  table,  trying  to  look  as  if  he  did  not  know  himself  to  be 
wealthier  than  both  the  gentlemen  put  together.  Certainly  he 
Avas  no  stranger  to  them,  any  more  than  I  was;  and,  as  it 
proved  afterwards,  Colonel  Harding  owed  him  a  lump  of  money, 
upon  very  good  security.  Of  him  Uncle  Eeuben  took  no  notice, 
but  addressed  himself  to  De  Whichehalse. 

The  Baron  smiled  very  gently,  so  soon  as  he  learned  the 
cause  of  this  visit;  and  then  he  replied  quite  reasonably, 

"  A  warrant  against  the  Doones,  Master  Huckaback?  Which 
of  the  Doones,  so  please  you;  and  the  Christian  names,  what 
be  they?" 

"My  lord,  I  am  not  their  godfather;  and  most  like  they 
never  had  any.  But  we  all  know  old  Sir  Ensor's  name,  so 
that  may  be  no  obstacle." 

"  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  his  sons  —  so  be  it.  How  many  sons, 
Master  Huckaback,  and  what  is  the  name  of  each  one?" 

"  How  can  I  tell  you,  my  lord,  even  if  I  had  known  them  all, 
as  well  as  my  own  shop-boys?  Nevertheless,  there  were  seven 
of  them;  and  that  should  be  no  obstacle." 

"  A  warrant  against  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  seven  sons  of  Sir 
Ensor  Doone,  Christian  names  unknown,  and  doubted  if  they 
have  any.  So  far  so  good.  Master  Huckaback.  I  have  it  all 
down  in  writing.  Sir  JEnsor  himself  was  there,  of  course,  as 
you  have  given  in  evidence  " 

"  No,  no,  my  lord,  I  never  said  that ;  I  never  said  " 


"  If  he  can  prove  that  he  was  not  there,  you  may  be  indicted 
for  yjerjury.  But  as  for  those  seven  sons  of  his,  of  course  you 
can  swear  that  they  were  liis  sons,  and  not  his  nephews,  or 
grandchildren,  or  even  no  Doones  at  all." 

"  My  lord,  I  can  swear  that  they  were  Doones.  Moreover, 
I  can  pay  for  any  mistake  I  make.  Therein  need  be  no 
obstacle." 

''  Oh  yes,  he  can  pay ;  he  can  pay  well  enough ;  "  said  Colonel 
Harding  shortly. 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  Baron  pleasantly ; 
"  for  it  proves  after  all  that  this  robbery  (if  robbery  there  has 
been)  was  not  so  very  ruinous.  Sometimes  people  think  they 
arc;  robbed;  and  then  it  is  very  sweet  afterwards  to  liiul  that 
they  have  not  been  so;  for  it  adds  to  their  joy  in  tlieir  ])roperty. 
Now,  are  you  quite  convinced,  good  sii-,  that  these  people   (if 


100  LORN  A  BOONE. 

there  were  any)  stole,  or  took,  or  even  borrowed  anything  at 
all  from  you?" 

"My  lord,  do  you  think  that  I  was  drunk?" 

"Not  for  a  moment,  Master  Huckaback.  Although  excuse 
might  be  made  for  you,  at  this  time  of  the  year.  But  how  did 
you  know  that  your  visitors  were  of  this  particular  family?  " 

"  Because  it  could  be  nobody  else.  Because,  in  spite  of  the 
fog  " . 

"Fog!  "  cried  Colonel  Harding  sharply. 

"Fog!  "  said  the  Baron  with  emphasis.  "Ah,  that  explains 
the  whole  affair.  To  be.  sure,  now  I  remember,  the  weather 
has  been  too  thick  for  a  man  to  see  the  head  of  his  own  horse. 
The  Doones  (if  still  there  be  any  Doones)  could  never  have 
come  abroad;  that  is  as  sure  as  simony.  Master  Huckaback, 
for  your  good  sake,  I  am  heartily  glad  that  this  charge  has 
miscarried.  I  thoroughly  understand  it  now.  The  fog  ex- 
plains the  whole  of  it." 

"  Go  back,  my  good  fellow, "  said  Colonel  Harding ;  "  and  if 
the  day  is  clear  enough,  you  will  find  all  your  things  where  you 
left  them.  I  know,  from  my  own  experience,  what  it  is  to  be 
caught  in  an  Exmoor  fog." 

Uncle  Reuben,  by  this  time,  was  so  put  out,  that  he  hardly 
knew  what  he  was  saying. 

"My  lord,  Sir  Colonel,  is  this  your  justice?  K  I  go  to  Lon- 
don myself  for  it,  the  King  shall  know  how  his  commission 
—  how  a  man  may  be  robbed,  and  the  justices  prove  that  he 
ought  to  be  hanged  at  the  back  of  it;  that  in  his  good  county 
of  Somerset " 

"Your  pardon  a  moment,  good  sir,"  De  Whichehalse  inter- 
rupted him;  "but  I  was  about  (having  heard  your  case)  to 
mention  Avhat  need  be  an  obstacle,  and,  I  fear,  would  prove  a 
fatal  one,  even  if  satisfactory  proof  were  afforded  of  a  felony. 
The  mal-feasance  (if  any)  was  laid  in  Somerset;  but  we,  two 
humble  servants  of  His  Majesty,  are  in  commission  of  his  peace 
for  the  county  of  Devon  only,  and  therefore  could  never  deal 
with  it." 

"And  why,  in  the  name  of  God,"  cried  Uncle  Reuben,  now 
carried  at  last  fairly  out  of  himself,  "why  could  you  not  say 
as  much  at  first,  and  save  me  all  this  waste  of  time,  and  worry 
of  my  temper?  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  in  league;  all  of  you 
stick  together.  You  think  it  fair  sport,  for  an  honest  trader, 
who  makes  no  shams  as  you  do,  to  be  robbed  and  well-nigh 
murdered,  so  long  as  they  who  did  it  own  the  high  birth-right 
of  felony.     If  a  poor  sheep-stealer,  to  save  his  children  from 


QUO    WARRANTO  ?  101 

dying  of  starvation,  had  dared  to  look  at  a  two-montli  lamb, 
he  would  swing  on  the  ]\Ianor  gallows,  and  all  of  you  cry  'good 
riddance ! '     But  now,  because  good  birth,  and  bad  manners  " 

Here  poor  Uncle  Ben,  not  being  so  strong  as  before  the 

Doones  had  played  with  him,  began  to  foam  at  the  mouth  a 
little,  and  his  tongue  went  into  the  hollow,  where  his  sliort 
gray  whiskers  were. 

I  forget  how  we  came  out  of  it ;  only  I  was  greatly  shocked 
at  bearding  of  the  gentry  so,  and  mother  scarce  could  see  her 
way,  when  I  told  her  all  about  it.  "  Depend  upon  it  you  were 
wrong,  John, "  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  her ;  though  what  had 
I  done  but  listen,  and  touch  my  forelock,  when  called  upon? 
"  John,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it,  you  have  not  done  as  you 
should  have  done.  Your  father  would  have  been  shocked  to 
think  of  going  to  Baron  de  Whichehalse,  and  in  his  own  house 
insulting  him !  And  yet  it  was  very  brave  of  you,  John.  Just 
like  you,  all  over.  And  (as  none  of  the  men  are  here,  dear 
John)  I  am  proud  of  you  for  doing  it." 

All  throughout  the  homeward  road.  Uncle  Ben  had  been  very 
silent,  feeling  much  displeased  with  himself,  and  still  more 
so  with  other  people.  But  before  he  went  to  bed  that  night, 
he  just  said  to  me,  "  Nephew  Jack,  you  have  not  behaved  so 
badly  as  the  rest  to  me.  And  because  you  have  no  gift  of  talk- 
ing, I  think  that  I  may  trust  you.  Now,  mark  my  words,  this 
villain  job  shall  not  have  ending  here.  I  have  another  card  to 
play." 

"  You  mean,  sir,  I  suppose,  that  you  will  go  to  tlie  justices 
of  this   county;    Squire   Maunder,  or   Sir   Richard    Blewitt, 


or" 


"Oaf,  I  mean  nothing  of  the  sort;  they  would  only  make  a 
laughing-stock,  as  those  Devonshire  people  did,  of  me.  No,  I 
will  go  to  the  King  himself,  or  a  man  who  is  bigger  than  the 
King,  and  to  whom  I  have  ready  access.  I  will  not  tell  thee 
his  name  at  present;  only  if  thou  art  brought  before  him, 
never  wilt  thou  forget  it."  That  was  true  enough,  by-the-by, 
as  I  discovered  afterwards ;  for  the  man  he  meant  was  Judge 
Jeffreys. 

"  And  when  are  you  likely  to  see  him,  sir?  " 

"May  be  in  the  spring,  may  be  not  until  summer;  for  I  can- 
not go  to  London  on  ])urpose,  Ijut  when  my  business  takes  me 
there.  Only  remember  my  words.  Jack,  and  Avhen  you  see  the 
man  I  nuian,  look  straiglit  at  him,  and  tell  no  lie.  He  will 
make  some  of  your  zany  squires  shake  in  their  shoes,  I  reckon. 
Now,  I  have  been  in  tliis  lonely  hole,  far  longer  than  I  intended, 


102  LOENA    DOONE. 

by  reason  of  tliis  rage ;  yet  I  will  stay  here  one  day  more,  upon 
a  certain  condition." 

"Upon  what  condition,  Uncle  Ben?  I  grieve  that  you  find 
it  so  lonely.  We  will  have  Farmer  Nicholas  up  again,  and  the 
singers,  and  " 


a  rpi 


The  fashionable  milkmaids.  I  thank  you,  let  me  be.  The 
wenches  are  too  loud  for  me.  Your  Nanny  is  enough.  Nanny 
is  a  good  child,  and  she  shall  come  and  visit  me."  Uncle 
Reuben  would  always  call  her  "  Nanny ;  "  he  said  that "  Annie  " 
was  too  fine  and  Frenchified  for  us.  "But  my  condition  is 
this,  Jack  —  that  you  shall  guide  me  to-morrow,  without  a 
word  to  any  one,  to  a  place  where  I  may  well  descry  the  dwell- 
ing of  these  scoundrel  Doones,  and  learn  the  best  way  to  get 
at  them,  when  the  time  shall  come.  Can  you  do  this  for  me? 
I  will  pay  you  well,  boy." 

I  promised  very  readily  to  do  my  best  to  serve  him;  but 
vowed  I  would  take  no  money  for  it,  not  being  so  poor  as  that 
came  to.  Accordingly,  on  the  day  following,  I  managed  to 
set  the  men  at  work  on  the  other  side  of  the  farm,  especially 
that  inquisitive  and  busy-body  John  Fry,  who  would  pry  out 
almost  any  thing,  for  the  pleasure  of  telling  his  wife ;  and  then, 
with  Uncle  Reuben  mounted  on  my  ancient  Peggy,  I  made  foot 
for  the  westward,  directly  after  breakfast.  Uncle  Ben  refused 
to  go,  unless  I  would  take  a  loaded  gun ;  and  indeed  it  was  always 
wise  to  do  so  in  tliose  days  of  turbulence;  and  none  the  less 
because  of  late  more  than  usual  of  our  sheep  had  left  their  skins 
behind  them. 

This,  as  I  need  hardly  say,  was  not  to  be  charged  to  the 
appetite  of  the  Doones,  for  they  always  said  that  they  were  not 
butchers  (altliough  upon  that  subject  might  well  be  two  opin- 
ions) ;  and  their  practice  was  to  make  tlie  shepherds  kill,  and 
skin,  and  quarter  for  them,  and  sometimes  carry  to  the  Doone- 
gate  the  prime  among  the  fatlings,  for  fear  of  any  bruising, 
which  spoils  the  look  at  table.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that 
ignorant  folk,  unaware  of  their  fastidiousness,  scored  to  them 
the  sheep  they  lost  by  lower-born  marauders,  and  so  were  afraid 
to  speak  of  it :  and  the  issue  of  this  error  was  that  a  farmer, 
with  five  or  six  hundred  sheep,  could  never  command,  on  his 
wedding-day,  a  prime  saddle  of  mutton  for  dinner. 

To  return  now  to  my  Uncle  Ben  —  and  indeed  he  would  not 
let  me  go  more  than  three  landyards  from  him  —  there  was  very 
little  said  between  us,  along  the  lane  and  across  the  hill, 
although  the  day  was  pleasant.  I  could  see  that  he  was  half- 
amiss  with  his  mind  about  the  business,  and  not  so  full  of 


quo   WARRANTO?  103 

security  as  an  elderly  man  should  keep  himself.     Therefore, 
out  I  spake  and  said  — 

''  Uncle  Reuben,  have  no  fear.  I  know  every  inch  of  the 
ground,  sir;  and  there  is  no  danger  nigh  us." 

"  Pear,  boy !  Who  ever  thought  of  fear?  'Tis  the  last  thing 
would  come  across  me.     Pretty  things  they  primroses." 

At  once  I  thought  of  Lorna  Doone,  the  little  maid  of  so  many 
years  back,  and  how  my  fancy  went  with  her.  Could  Lorna 
ever  think  of  me?  Was  I  not  a  lout  gone  by,  only  fit  for  loach- 
sticking?  Had  I  ever  seen  a  face  fit  to  think  of  near  lier? 
The  sudden  flash,  the  quickness,  the  bright  desire  to  know 
one's  heart,  and  not  withhold  her  own  from  it,  the  soft  with- 
drawal of  rich  eyes,  the  longing  to  love  somebody,  any  body, 
any  thing,  not  imbrued  with  wickedness 

My  uncle  interrupted  me,  misliking  so  much  silence  now, 
with  the  naked  woods  falling  over  us.  For  we  were  come  to 
Bagworthy  forest,  the  blackest  and  the  loneliest  place  of  all 
that  keep  the  sun  out.  Even  now  in  winter-time,  with  most 
of  the  wood  unriddled,  and  the  rest  of  it  pinched  brown,  it 
hung  around  us,  like  a  cloak  containing  little  comfort.  I  kept 
quite  close  to  Peggy's  head,  and  Peggy  kept  quite  close  to  me, 
and  pricked  her  ears  at  every  thing.  However,  we  saw  noth- 
ing there,  except  a  few  old  owls  and  hawks,  and  a  magpie 
sitting  all  alone,  until  we  came  to  the  bank  of  the  hill,  Avhere 
the  pony  could  not  climb  it.  Uncle  Ben  was  very  loth  to  get 
off,  because  the  pony  seemed  good  company,  and  he  thought  he 
could  gallop  away  on  her,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst ;  but 
I  persuaded  him  that  now  he  must  go  to  the  end  of  it.  There- 
fore we  made  Peggy  fast,  in  a  place  where  we  could  find  her; 
and  speaking  cheerfully,  as  if  there  was  nothing  to  be  afraid 
of,  he  took  his  staff,  and  I  my  gun,  to  climb  the  thick 
ascent. 

There  was  now  no  path  of  any  kind;  which  added  to  our 
courage  all  it  lessened  of  our  comfort,  because  it  proved  that 
the  robbers  were  not  in  the  habit  of  passing  there.  And  we 
knew  that  we  could  not  go  astray,  so  long  as  we  breasted  the 
liill  before  us;  inasmucli  as  it  formed  the  rampart,  or  side- 
fence  of  Glen  Doone.  But  in  truth  I  used  the  right  word 
there  for  the  manner  of  our  ascent,  for  tlie  ground  came  forth 
so  steep  against  us,  and  withal  so  woody,  tliat  to  make  any 
way  we  must  throw  ourselves  forward,  and  labor,  as  at  a 
breast-plough.  Rough  and  loaniy  rungs  of  oak-root  bulgcnl, 
here  and  tliere,  above  our  heads;  briars  needs  must  speak  with 
us,  using  more  of  tooth  tlian  tongue;  and  soniotimes  bulks  of 


104  LORNA   BOONE. 

rugged  stone,  like  great  slieep,  stood  across  us.  At  la.st, 
though  very  loth  to  do  it,  I  was  forced  to  leave  my  gun  behind, 
because  I  required  one  hand  to  drag  myself  up  the  diiliculty, 
and  one  to  help  Uncle  Reuben.  And  so  at  last  we  gained  the 
top,  and  looked  forth  the  edge  of  the  forest,  where  the  ground 
was  very  stony,  and  like  the  crest  of  a  quarry ;  and  no  more 
trees  between  us  and  the  brink  of  cliff  below,  three  hundred 
yards  below  it  might  be,  all  strong  slope  and  gliddery.  And 
now  for  the  first  time  I  was  amazed  at  the  appearance  of  the 
Doones'  stronghold,  and  understood  its  nature.  For  when  I 
had  been  even  in  the  valley,  and  climbed  the  cliffs  to  escape 
from  it,  about  seven  years  agone,  I  was  no  more  than  a  strip- 
ling boy,  noting  little,  as  boys  do,  except  for  their  present 
purpose,  and  even  that  soon  done  with.  But  now,  what  with 
the  fame  of  tlie  Doones,  and  my  own  recollections,  and  Uncle 
Ben's  insistence,  all  my  attention  was  called  forth,  and  the 
end  was  simple  astonishment. 

The  chine  of  highland,  whereon  we  stood,  curved  to  the 
right  and  left  of  us,  keeping  about  the  same  elevation,  and 
crowned  with  trees  and  brushwood.  At  about  half  a  mile  in 
front  of  us,  but  looking  as  if  we  could  throw  a  stone  to  strike 
any  man  upon  it,  another  crest,  just  like  our  own,  bowed 
around  to  meet  it ;  but  failed,  by  reason  of  two  narrow  clefts, 
of  which  we  could  only  see  the  brink.  One  of  these  clefts  was 
the  Doone-gate,  with  a  portcullis  of  rock  above  it;  and  the 
other  was  the  chasm,  by  which  I  had  once  made  entrance. 
Betwixt  tliem,  where  the  hills  fell  back,  as  in  a  perfect  oval, 
traversed  by  the  winding  water,  lay  a  bright  green  valley, 
rimmed  with  sheer  black  rock,  and  seeming  to  have  sunken 
bodily  from  the  bleak  rough  heights  above.  It  looked  as  if 
no  frost  could  enter,  neither  winds  go  ruffling:  only  spring, 
and  hope,  and  comfort,  breathe  to  one  another.  Even  now 
the  rays  of  sunshine  dwelt,  and  fell  back  on  themselves,  when- 
ever the  clouds  lifted;  and  the  pale  blue  glimpse  of  the  grow- 
ing day  seemed  to  find  young  encouragement. 

But  for  all  that.  Uncle  Reuben  was  none  the  worse  nor 
better.  He  looked  down  into  Glen  Doone  first,  and  sniffed  as 
if  he  were  smelling  it,  like  a  sample  of  goods  from  a  wholesale 
house ;  and  then  he  looked  at  the  hills  over  yonder,  and  then 
he  stared  at  me. 

"  See  what  a  pack  of  fools  they  be  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  do,  Uncle  Ben.  'All  rogues  are  fools,'  was 
my  first  copy,  beginning  of  the  alphabet." 

"Pack  of  stuff,  lad.     Though  true  enough,  and  very  good 


LORN  A    GEO  WING   FOnMIBABLE.  105 

for  young  people.  But  see  you  not,  liow  tliis  great  Doone 
valley  may  be  taken  in  half-an-hour  ?  " 

"Yes,  to  be  sure  I  do,  uncle;  if  they  like  to  give  it  up,  I 
mean." 

"Three  culverins  on  yonder  hill,  and  three  on  the  top  of 
this  one  —  and  Ave  have  them  under  a  pestle.  Ah,  I  have  seen 
the  wars,  my  lad,  from  Keinton  up  to  Naseby;  and  I  might 
have  been  a  General  now,  if  they  had  taken  my  advice  " 

But  I  was  not  attending  to  him,  being  drawn  away  on  a  sud- 
den by  a  sight  which  never  struck  the  sharp  eyes  of  our  Gen- 
eral. For  I  had  long  ago  descried  that  little  opening  in  the 
clilf,  through  which  I  made  my  exit,  as  before  related,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  valley.  No  bigger  than  a  rabbit-hole  it 
seemed  from  where  we  stood;  and  yet  of  all  the  scene  before 
me,  tliat  (from  my  remembrance  perhaps)  had  the  most  attrac- 
tion. ]Srow  gazing  at  it,  with  full  thought  of  all  that  it  had 
cost  me,  I  saw  a  little  iigure  come,  and  pause,  and  pass  into 
it.  Something  very  light  and  white,  nimble,  smooth,  and  ele- 
gant, gone  almost  before  I  knew  that  any  one  had  been  there. 
And  yet  my  heart  came  to  my  ribs,  and  all  my  blood  was  in 
my  face,  and  pride  within  me  fought  with  shame,  and  vanity 
with  self -contempt;  for  though  seven  years  were  gone,  and  I 
from  boyhood  come  to  manhood,  and  she  must  have  forgotten 
me,  and  I  had  half-f orgotten ;  at  that  moment,  once  for  all,  I 
felt  that  I  was  face  to  face  with  fate  (however  poor  it  might 
be),  weal  or  woe,  in  Lorna  Doone. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LORNA    GROWING   FORMIDABLE. 

Having  reconnoitred  thus  the  position  of  the  enemy.  Master 
Huckaback  on  the  homeward  road,  cross-examined  me,  in  a 
manner  not  at  all  desirable.  For  he  had  noted  my  confusion, 
and  eager  gaze  at  sometliing  unseen  by  him  in  the  valley;  and 
thereupon  he  made  up  his  mind  to  know  every  thing  about  it. 
In  this,  however,  lie  partly  failed;  for  although  I  was  no  hand 
at  fence,  and  would  not  tcU  liim  a  falseliood,  I  managed  so  to 
hold  my  peace,  that  h(!  put  liimself  upon  tlie  wrong  track,  and 
continued  thereon,  with  many  vaunts  of  his  shrewdness  and 
exjjerience,  and  sonu;  chuckh's  at  my  simplicity.  Tlius  mucli, 
however,  he  learned  aright,  that  I  had  been   in  the  Doone 


106  LORNA   BOONE. 

valley,  several  years  before,  and  might  be  brought  upon  strong 
inducement  to  venture  there  again.  But  as  to  the  mode  of  my 
getting  in,  the  things  I  saw,  and  my  thoughts  upon  them,  he 
not  only  failed  to  learn  the  truth,  but  certified  himself  into 
an  obstinacy  of  error,  from  which  no  after-knowledge  was  able 
to  deliver  him.  And  this  he  did,  not  only  because  I  happened 
to  say  very  little,  but  forasmuch  as  he  disbelieved  half  of  the 
truth  I  told  him,  through  his  own  too  great  sagacity. 

Upon  one  point,  however,  he  succeeded  more  easily  than  he 
expected,  viz.  in  making  me  promise  to  visit  the  place  again, 
as  soon  as  occasion  offered,  and  to  hold  my  own  counsel  about 
it.  But  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  one  thing,  that  according 
to  his  point  of  view,  my  own  counsel  meant  my  own,  and 
Master  Eeuben  Huckaback's. 

Now  he  being  gone,  as  he  went  next  day,  to  his  favorite 
town  of  Dulvertou,  and  leaving  behind  him  shadowy  promise 
of  the  mountains  he  would  do  for  me,  my  spirit  began  to  burn, 
and  pant,  for  something  to  go  on  with;  and  nothiug  showed  a 
braver  hope  of  movement,  and  adventure,  than  a  lonely  visit  to 
Glen  Doone,  by  way  of  the  perilous  passage  discovered  in  my 
boyhood.  Therefore  I  waited  for  nothing  more  than  the  slow 
arrival  of  new  smallclothes,  made  by  a  good  tailor  at  Porlock, 
for  it  seemed  a  pure  duty  to  look  my  best;  and  when  they  were 
come  and  approved,  I  started,  regardless  of  the  expense,  and 
forgetting  (like  a  fool)  how  badly  they  would  take  the  water. 

What  with  urging  of  the  tailor,  and  my  own  misgivings,  the 
time  was  now  come  round  again  to  the  high-day  of  St.  Valen- 
tine, when  all  our  maids  were  full  of  lovers,  and  all  the  lads 
looked  foolish.  And  none  of  them  more  sheepish,  or  more 
innocent,  than  I  myself,  albeit  twenty-one  years  old,  and  not 
afraid  of  men  much,  but  terrified  of  women,  at  least,  if  they 
were  comely.  And  what  of  all  things  scared  me  most  was  the 
thought  of  my  own  size,  and  knowledge  of  my  strength,  which 
came,  like  knots,  upon  me  daily.  In  honest  truth  I  tell  this 
thing  (which  often  since  hath  puzzled  me,  when  I  came  to  mix 
with  men  more),  I  was  to  that  degree  ashamed  of  my  thick- 
ness, and  my  stature,  m  the  presence  of  a  woman,  that  I  would 
not  put  a  trunk  of  wood  on  the  fire  in  tlie  kitchen,  but  let 
Annie  scold  me  well,  with  a  smile  to  follovv^,  and  with  her  own 
plump  hands  lift  up  a  little  log,  and  fuel  it.  Many  a  time,  I 
longed  to  be  no  bigger  than  John  Fry  was ;  whom  now  (when 
insol'-nt)  I  took  with  my  left  hand  by  the  waist-stuff,  and  set 
him  on  my  hat,  and  gave  him  little  chance  to  tread  it;  until 
he  spoke  of  his  family,  and  requested  to  come  down  again. 


LOBNA   GROWIA^G  FORMIDABLE.  107 

Now  taking  for  good  omen  this,  that  I  was  a  seven-year  Val- 
entine, though  much  too  big  for  a  Cupidon,  I  chose  a  seven- 
foot  staff  of  ash,  and  fixed  a  loach-fork  in  it,  to  look  as  I  liad 
looked  before ;  and  leaving  word  upon  matters  of  business,  out 
of  the  back  door  I  went,  and  so  through  the  little  orchard,  and 
down  the  brawling  Lynn-brook.  Not  being  now  so  much 
afraid,  I  struck  across  the  thicket  land  between  the  meeting 
waters,  and  came  upon  the  Bagworthy  stream  near  the  great 
black  whirlpool.  Nothing  amazed  me  so  much  as  to  find  how 
shallow  the  stream  now  looked  to  me,  although  the  pool  was 
still  as  black,  and  greedy,  as  it  used  to  be.  And  still  the 
great  rocky  slide  was  dark,  and  difficult  to  climb;  though  the 
water,  which  once  had  taken  my  knees  was  satisfied  now  with 
my  ankles.  After  some  labor,  I  reached  the  top;  and  halted 
to  look  about  me  well,  before  trusting  to  broad  daylight. 

The  winter  (as  I  said  before)  had  been  a  very  mild  one ;  and 
now  the  spring  was  toward,  so  that  bank  and  bush  were 
touched  with  it.  The  valley  into  which  I  gazed  was  fair  with 
early  promise,  having  shelter  from  the  wind,  and  taking  all 
the  sunshine.  The  willow-bushes  over  the  stream  hung  as  if 
they  were  angling,  with  tasseled  floats  of  gold  and  silver, 
bursting  like  a  bean-pod.  Between  them  came  the  water 
laughing,  like  a  maid  at  her  owti  dancing,  and  spread  with  that 
young  blue  which  never  lives  beyond  the  April.  And  on  either 
bank,  the  meadow  ruffled,  as  the  breeze  came  by,  opening 
(tlirough  new  tufts  of  green)  daisy-bud  or  celandine,  or  a  shy 
glimpse  now  and  then  of  the  love-lorn  primrose. 

Though  I  am  so  blank  of  wit,  or  perhaps  for  that  same 
reason,  these  little  things  come  and  dAvell  with  me;  and  I  am 
happy  about  them,  and  long  for  nothing  better.  I  feel  witli 
every  blade  of  grass,  as  if  it  had  a  history;  and  make  a  child 
of  every  bud,  as  though  it  knew  and  loved  me.  And  being  so, 
they  seem  to  tell  me  of  my  own  oblivions,  how  I  am  no  more 
than  they,  except  in  self-importance. 

While  I  was  forgetting  much  of  many  things  that  harm  one, 
and  letting  of  my  thoughts  go  wild  to  sounds  and  sights  of 
nature,  a  SAveeter  note  than  thrush  or  ouzel  ever  wooed  a  mate 
in,  floated  on  the  valley  breeze,  at  the  quiet  turn  of  sundown. 
The  words  were  of  an  ancient  song,  fit  to  cry  or  laugh  at. 

"  Love,  an  if  there  be  one, 
Come  my  love  to  be, 
My  love  is  for  the  one 
Loving  unto  me. 


108  LORNA   BOONE. 

"Not  for  me  the  show,  love, 
Of  a  gilded  bliss  ; 
Only  thou  must  know,  love, 
What  my  value  is. 

"  If  in  all  the  earth,  love, 
Thou  hast  none  but  me, 
This  shall  be  my  worth,  love, 
To  be  cheap  to  thee. 

"But,  if  so  thou  ever 
Strivest  to  be  free, 
'Twill  be  my  endeavor 
To  be  dear  to  thee. 

"Hence  may  I  ensue,  love, 
All  a  woman's  due  ; 
Comforting  my  true  love, 
With  a  love  as  true." 

All  this  I  took  in  witli  great  eagerness,  not  for  the  sake  of 
the  meaning  (which  is  no  doubt  an  allegory),  but  for  the 
power,  and  richness,  and  softness  of  the  singing,  which 
seemed  to  me  better  than  we  ever  had  even  in  Oare  church. 
But  all  the  time,  I  kept  myself  in  a  black  niche  of  the  rock, 
where  the  fall  of  the  water  began,  lest  the  sweet  singer  (espy- 
ing me)  should  be  alarmed,  and  flee  away.  But  presently  I 
ventured  to  look  forth,  where  a  bush  was ;  and  then  I  beheld 
the  loveliest  sight  —  one  glimpse  of  Avliich  was  enough  to 
make  me  kneel  in  the  coldest  water. 

By  the  side  of  the  stream,  she  was  coming  to  me,  even 
among  the  primroses,  as  if  she  loved  them  all;  and  every 
flower  looked  the  brighter,  as  her  eyes  were  on  them.  I  could 
not  see  what  her  face  was,  my  heart  so  awoke  and  trembled; 
only  that  her  hair  was  flowing  from  a  w^reath  of  white  violets, 
and  the  grace  of  her  coming  was  like  the  appearance  of  the 
first  wind-flower.  The  pale  gleam  over  the  western  cliffs 
threw  a  shadow  of  light  behind  her,  as  if  the  sun  were  linger- 
ing. Never  do  I  see  that  light  from  the  closing  of  the  west, 
even  in  these  my  aged  days,  without  thinking  of  her.  Ah  me, 
if  it  comes  to  that,  what  do  I  see  of  earth  or  heaven,  without 
thinking  of  her  ? 

The  tremulous  thrill  of  her  song  was  hanging  on  her  open 
lips ;  and  she  glanced  around,  as  if  the  birds  were  accustomed 
to  make  answer.  To  me  it  was  a  thing  of  terror  to  behold 
such  beauty,  and  feel  myself  the  while  to  be  so  very  low  and 
common.     But  scarcely  knowing  what  I  did,  as  if  a  rope  were 


y'*'i** 


K      r' 


LokNA     DOO.NE.  —  V(jl.    I.    p.    id8 


LOENA    GROWING  FOBMIDABLE.  109 

drawing  me,  I  came  from  the  dark  mouth  of  the  chasm;  and 
stood,  afraid  to  look  at  her. 

She  was  turning  to  fly,  not  knowing  me,  and  frightened, 
perhaps,  at  my  stature;  when  I  fell  on  the  grass  (as  I  fell 
before  her  seven  years  agone  that  day),  and  I  just  said, 
"  Lorna  Doone !  " 

She  knew  me  at  once,  from  my  manner  and  ways,  and  a 
smile  broke  through  her  trembling,  as  sunshine  comes  through 
willow  leaves ;  and  being  so  clever  she  saw,  of  course,  that  she 
needed  not  to  fear  me. 

"Oh,  indeed,"  she  cried,  with  a  feint  of  anger  (because  she 
had  shown  her  cowardice,  and  yet  in  her  heart  she  was  laugh- 
ing) ;  "  oh,  if  you  please,  who  are  you,  sir,  and  hoAV  do  you 
know  my  name?" 

"I  am  John  Eidd,"  I  answered;  "the  boy  who  gave  you 
those  beautiful  fish,  when  you  were  only  a  little  tiling,  seven 
years  ago  to-day." 

"  Yes,  the  poor  boy  who  was  frightened  so,  and  obliged  to 
hide  here  in  the  water." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  kind  you  were,  and  saved  my 
life  by  your  quickness,  and  went  away  riding  upon  a  great 
man's  shoulder,  as  if  you  had  never  seen  me,  and  yet  looked 
back  through  the  willow-trees?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  every  thing ;  because  it  was  so  rare 
to  see  any,  except,  —  I  mean,  because  I  happen  to  remember. 
But  you  seem  not  to  remember,  sir,  how  perilous  this  place  is." 

For  she  had  kept  her  eyes  upon  me ;  large  eyes,  of  a  soft- 
ness, a  brightness,  and  a  dignity,  which  made  me  feel  as  if  I 
must  for  ever  love,  and  yet  for  ever  know  myself  unworthy. 
Unless  themselves  should  fill  with  love,  Avhich  is  the  spring 
of  all  tilings.  And  so  I  (;ould  not  answer  her,  but  was  over- 
come with  thinking,  and  feeling,  and  confusion.  Neither  could 
I  look  again;  only  waited  for  the  melody,  which  made  every 
word  like  a  poem  to  me,  the  melody  of  lier  voice.  But  she 
had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  was  going  on  witli  me,  any  more 
than  I  myself  had. 

"I  think,  Master  Eidd,  you  cannot  know,"  she  said,  with 
her  eyes  taken  from  me,  "what  the  dangers  of  this  place  are, 
and  the  nature  of  the  people." 

"Yes,  I  know  enough  of  that;  and  I  am  frightened  greatly, 
all  the  time  when  I  do  not  look  at  you." 

Slie  was  too  young  to  answer  me,  in  tlie  styh^  sonic  niaiiU'iis 
would  have  used;  the  manner,  I  mean,  which  now  wv.  call 
from  a  foreign  word  "coquettisli."      And  ihoit  IIkiii   tluit,  she 


110  LOBNA   BOONE. 

was  trembling,  from  real  fear  of  violence,  lest  strong  hands 
might  be  laid  on  me,  and  a  miserable  end  of  it.  And,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  grew  afraid;  perhaps  from  a  kind  of  sympathy, 
and  because  I  knew  that  evil  comes  more  readily  than  good 

to  us. 

Therefore,  without  more  ado,  or  taking  any  advantage  — 
although  I  would  have  been  glad  at  heart,  if  needs  had  been, 
to  kiss  her  (without  any  thought  of  rudeness)  —  it  struck  me 
that  I  had  better  go,  and  have  no  more  to  say  to  her  until  next 
time  of  coming.'  So  would  she  look  the  more  for  me,  and 
think  the  more  about  me,  and  not  grow  weary  of  my  words, 
and  the  want  of  change  there  is  in  me.  For,  of  course,  I  knew 
what  a  churl  I  was,  compared  to  her  birth  and  appearance; 
but  meanwhile  I  might  improve  myself,  and  learn  a  musical 
instrument.  "  The  wind  hath  a  draw  after  flying  straw "  is 
a  saying  we  have  in  Devonshire,  made,  peradventure,  by  some- 
body who  had  seen  the  ways  of  women. 

"  Mistress  Lorna,  I  will  depart "  —  mark  you,  I  thought  that 
a  powerful  word  —  "  in  fear  of  causing  disquiet.  If  any  rogue 
shot  me,  it  would  grieve  you;  I  make  bold  to  say  it;  and  it 
would  be  the  death  of  mother.  Few  mothers  have  such  a  son 
as  me.  Try  to  think  of  me,  now  and  then;  and  I  will  bring 
you  some  new-laid  eggs,  for  our  young  blue  hen  is  beginning." 

"I  thank  you  heartily,"  said  Lorna;  "but  you  need  not 
come  to  see  me.  You  can  put  them  in  my  little  bower,  where 
I  am  almost  always  —  I  mean  whither  daily  I  repair ;  to  think, 
and  to  be  away  from  them." 

"  Only  show  me  where  it  is.     Thrice  a  day,  I  will  come  and 

stop  " 

"  Nay,  Master  Eidd,  I  would  never  show  thee  —  never,  be- 
cause of  peril  —  only  that  so  happens  it,  thou  hast  found  the 
way  already." 

And  she  smiled,  with  a  light  that  made  me  care  to  cry  out 
for  no  other  way,  only  the  way  to  her  dear  heart.  But  only 
to  myself  I  cried  for  anything  at  all,  having  enough  of  man 
in  me,  to  be  bashful  with  young  maidens.  So  I  touched  her 
white  hand  softly,  when  she  gave  it  to  me ;  and  (fancying  that 
she  had  sighed)  was  touched  at  heart  about  it,  and  resolved  to 
yield  her  all  my  goods,  although  my  mother  was  living;  and 
then  grew  angry  with  myself  (for  a  mile  or  more  of  walking)  to 
think  she  would  condescend  so ;  and  then,  for  the  rest  of  the 
homeward  road,  was  mad  with  every  man  in  the  world,  who 
would  dare  to  think  of  looking  at  her. 


JOHN  IS  BEWITCBED.  Ill 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

JOHN    IS    BEWITCHED. 

To  forget  one's  luck  of  life,  to  forget  the  cark  of  care,  and 
withering  of  young  fingers ;  not  to  feel,  or  not  be  moved  by, 
all  the  change  of  thoiight  and  heart,  from  large  young  heat  to 
the  sine-ny  lines,  and  dry  bones  of  old  age  —  that  is  what  I 
have  to  do,  ere  ever  I  can  make  you  know  (even  as  a  dream 
is  known)  how  I  loved  my  Lorna.  I  myself  can  never  know; 
never  can  conceive,  or  treat  it  as  a  tiling  of  reason;  never  can 
behold  myself  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  think  that  this 
was  I;  neither  can  I  wander  far  from  perpetual  thouglit  of 
it.  Perhaps  I  have  two  farrows  of  pigs  ready  for  the  chap- 
man; perhaps  I  have  ten  stones  of  wool  waiting  for  the  factor. 
It  is  all  the  same :  I  look  at  both,  and  what  I  say  to  myself  is 
this:  "Wliich  would  Lorna  choose  of  them?"  Of  course,  I 
am  a  fool  for  this;  any  man  may  call  me  so,  and  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  him,  unless  he  guess  my  secret.  By  and  by,  I 
fetch  my  wit,  so  far  as  it  be  worth  the  fetching,  back  again  to 
business.  But  there  my  heart  is,  and  must  be;  and  all  who 
like  to  try  can  cheat  me,  except  upon  parish  matters. 

That  week,  I  could  do  little  more  than  dream  and  dream, 
and  rove  about,  seeking  by  perpetual  change  to  find  the  way 
back  to  myself.  I  cared  not  for  the  people  round  me,  neither 
took  delight  in  victuals;  but  made  believe  to  eat  and  drink, 
and  blushed  at  any  questions.  And  being  called  the  master 
now,  head-farmer,  and  chief  yeoman,  it  irked  me  nuich  that 
any  one  should  take  advantage  of  me;  yet  everybody  did  so, 
as  soon  as  ever  it  was  known  that  my  wits  were  gone  moon- 
raking.  For  tliat  was  the  way  they  looked  at  it,  not  being 
able  to  comprehend  the  greatness  and  the  loftiness.  Neither 
do  I  blame  them  much;  for  the  wisest  thing  is  to  laugh  at 
people,  when  we  cannot  understand  them.  I,  for  my  part, 
took  no  notice;  but  in  my  heart  des])is(Ml  tluMii,  as  beings  of 
a  lesser  nature,  who  never  had  seen  Lorna.  Yut  was  I  vexed, 
and  drank  a  pail  of  water,  when  John  Fry  spread  all  over  the 
farm,  and  even  at  the  shoeing  forge,  that  a  mad  dog  had  come 
and  bitten  me,  from  the  other  side  of  Molkuid. 

This  seems  little  to  me  now;  and  so  it  might  to  any  one; 
but,  at  the  time,  it  worked  me  up  to  a  fever  of  indignity.  To 
make   a   mad  dog  of  Lorna,  to  compare  all    my   imaginings 


112  LOBNA  BOONE. 

(which  were  strange,  I  do  assure  you  —  the  faculty  not  being 
apt  to  work),  to  count  the  raising  of  my  soul  no  more  than 
hydrophobia!  All  this  acted  on  nie  so,  that  I  gave  John  Fry 
the  soundest  threshing,  that  ever  a  sheaf  of  good  corn  de- 
served, or  a  bundle  of  tares  was  blessed  with.  Afterwards 
he  went  home,  too  tired  to  tell  his  wife  the  meaning  of  it ;  but 
it  proved  of  service  to  both  of  them,  and  an  example  for  their 
children. 

Now  the  climate  of  this  country  is  —  so  far  as  I  can  make  of 
it  —  to  throw  no  man  into  extremes ;  and  if  he  throw  himself 
so  far,  to  pluck  him  back,  by  change  of  weather  and  the  need 
of  looking  after  things.  Lest  we  should  be  like  the  Southerns, 
for  whom  the  sky  does  everything,  and  men  sit  under  a  wall, 
and  watch  both  food  and  fruit  come  beckoning.  Their  sky  is 
a  mother  to  them;  but  ours  a  good  stepmother  to  us  —  fearing 
to  hurt  by  indulgence,  and  knowing  that  force,  and  change  of 
mood,  are  wholesome. 

The  spring  being  now  too  forward,  a  check  to  it  was  needful; 
and  in  the  early  part  of  March,  there  came  a  change  of  weather. 
All  the  young  growth  was  arrested  by  a  dry  wind  from  the  east, 
which  made  both  face  and  lingers  burn,  when  a  man  was  doing 
ditching.  The  lilacs,  and  the  chestnut  trees,  just  crowding 
forth  in  little  tufts,  close  kernelling  their  blossom,  were  ruffled 
back,  like  a  sleeve  turned  up,  and  nicked  with  brown  at  the 
corners.  In  the  hedges  any  man,  unless  his  eyes  were  very 
dull,  could  see  the  mischief  doing.  The  russet  of  the  young 
elm-bloom  was  fain  to  be  in  its  scale  again ;  but  having  pushed 
forth,  there  must  be,  and  turn  to  a  tawny  color.  The  hangers 
of  the  hazel,  too,  having  shed  their  dust  to  make  the  nuts,  did 
not  spread  their  little  combs  and  dry  them,  as  they  ought  to 
do;  but  shrivelled  at  the  base,  and  fell,  as  if  a  knife  had  cut 
them.  And  more  than  all  to  notice  was  (at  least  about  the 
hedges)  the  shuddering  of  everything,  and  the  shivering  sound 
among  them  towards  the  feeble  sun ;  such  as  we  make  to  a  poor 
fire-place,  when  windows  and  doors  are  open.  Sometimes,  I 
put  my  face  to  warm  against  the  soft,  rough  maple-stem,  which 
feels  like  the  foot  of  a  red  deer;  but  the  pitiless  east  wind  came 
through  all,  and  took  and  shook  the  caved  hedge  aback,  till  its 
knees  were  knocking  together,  and  nothing  could  be  shelter. 
Then  would  any  one,  having  blood,  and  trying  to  keep  at  home 
with  it,  run  to  a  sturdy  tree,  and  hope  to  eat  his  food  behind 
it,  and  look  for  a  little  sun  to  come,  and  warm  his  feet  in  the 
shelter.  And  if  it  did,  he  might  strike  his  breast,  and  try  to 
think  he  was  warmer. 


JOHN  IS  BEWITCHED.  113 

But  Avlieu  a  man  came  home  at  night,  after  a  long  day's 
labor,  knowing  that  tlie  days  increased,  and  so  his  care  shonhl 
multiply;  still  he  found  enough  of  light,  to  show  him  what  the 
day  had  done  against  him  in  his  garden.  Every  ridge  of  new- 
turned  earth  looked  like  a  broken  cob-wall,  honeycombed,  and 
harsh  and  crusty,  void  of  spring,  and  cankery.  Every  plant, 
that  had  rejoiced  in  passing  such  a  winter,  now  was  cow^ering, 
turned  away,  unfit  to  meet  the  consequence.  Flowing  sap  had 
stopped  its  course ;  fluted  lines  showed  Avant  of  food ;  and  if 
you  pinched  the  topmost  spray,  there  was  no  rebound  or  firm- 
ness. 

We  think  a  good  deal,  in  a  quiet  Avay,  when  people  ask  us 
about  them  —  of  some  fine,  upstanding  pear-trees,  grafted  by 
my  grandfather,  who  had  been  very  greatly  respected.  And 
he  got  those  grafts  by  sheltering  a  poor  Italian  soldier,  in  the 
time  of  James  the  First,  a  man  wdio  never  could  do  enough  to 
show  his  grateful  memories.  How  he  came  to  our  place  is  a 
very  dilficult  story,  which  I  never  understood  rightly,  having 
Heard  it  from  my  mother.  At  any  rate,  there  the  pear-trees 
were,  and  there  they  are  to  this  very  day;  and  I  wish  every 
one  could  taste  their  fruit,  old  as  they  are,  and  rugged. 

Now  these  fine  trees  had  taken  advantage  of  the  west  winds, 
and  the  moisture,  and  the  promise  of  fine  spring-time,  so  as  to 
fill  the  tips  of  their  spray-wood  and  rowels  all  up  the  branches, 
with  a  crowd  of  eager  blossom.  Not  that  they  were  yet  in 
bloom,  nor  even  showing  whiteness;  only  that  some  of  the 
cones  Avere  opening,  at  the  side  of  the  cap  which  pinched  them; 
and  there  you  might  count,  perhaps,  a  dozen  nobs,  like  very 
little  buttons,  but  grooved,  and  lined,  and  huddling  close,  to 
make  room  for  one  another.  And  among  these  buds  were  gray- 
green  blades,  scarce  bigger  than  a  hair  almost,  yet  curving  so 
as  if  their  purpose  was  to  shield  the  blossom. 

Other  of  the  spur-points,  standing  on  tlie  older  wood,  where 
the  sap  was  not  so  eager,  had  not  burst  their  tunic  yet,  but 
were  frayed  and  flaked  with  light,  casting  off  the  husk  of  brown 
in  three-cornered  patches;  as  I  have  seen  a  Scotchman's  ])laid, 
or  as  his  leg  shows  through  it.  These  buds,  at  a  distance, 
looked  as  if  the  sky  had  been  raining  cream  upon  them. 

Now  all  this  fair  delight  to  the  eyes,  and  good  promise  to 
the  palate,  was  marred  and  baffled  l)y  the  wind,  and  cutting  of 
the  night-frosts.  The  opening  cones  were  struck  with  brown, 
in  between  the  button  buds,  and  on  the  scapes  that  shielded 
them;  while  the  foot  part  of  the  cover  liung  like  rags,  ])('('l('d 
back,  and  quivering.     And  there  the  little  stalk  of  each,  which 

VOL.    I. 8 


114  LORNA   DOONE. 

might  have  been  a  pear,  God  willing,  had  a  ring  around  its 
base,  and  sought  a  chance  to  drop  and  die.  The  others,  which 
had  not  opened  shell,  but  only  prepared  to  do  it,  were  a  little 
better  off,  but  still  very  brown  and  unkid,  and  shrivelling  in 
doubt  of  health,  and  neither  peart  nor  lusty. 

Now  this  I  have  not  told  because  I  know  the  way  to  do  it, 
for  that  I  do  not,  neither  yet  have  seen  a  man  who  did  know. 
It  is  wonderful  how  we  look  at  things,  and  never  think  to 
notice  them;  and  I  am  as  bad  as  any  body,  unless  the  thing  to 
be  observed  is  a  dog,  or  a  horse,  or  a  maiden.  And  the  last  of 
those  three  I  look  at,  somehow,  witliout  knowing  that  I  take 
notice,  and  greatly  afraid  to  do  it;  only  I  knew  afterwards 
(when  the  time  of  life  was  in  me),  not,  indeed,  what  the 
maiden  was  like,  but  how  she  differed  from  others. 

Yet  I  have  spoken  about  the  spring,  and  the  failure  of  fair 
promise,  because  I  took  it  to  my  heart,  as  token  of  what  would 
come  to  me,  in  the  budding  of  my  years  and  hope.  And  even 
then,  being  much  possessed,  and  full  of  a  foolish  melancholy, 
I  felt  a  sad  delight  at  being  doomed  to  blight  and  loneliness; 
not  but  that  I  managed  still  (when  mother  was  urgent  upon  me) 
to  eat  my  share  of  victuals,  and  cu.ff"  a  man  for  laziness,  and 
see  that  a  ploughshare  made  no  leaps,  and  sleep  of  a  night 
without  dreaming.  And  my  mother,  half-believing,  in  her 
fondness  and  affection,  that  what  the  parish  said  was  true  about 
a  mad  dog  having  bitten  me,  and  yet  arguing  that  it  must  be 
false  (l^ecause  God  would  have  prevented  him),  my  mother  gave 
me  little  rest,  when  I  was  in  the  room  with  her.  Not  that  she 
worried  me  with  questions,  nor  openly  regarded  me  with  any 
unusual  meaning,  but  that  I  knew  she  was  watching  slyly 
whenever  I  took  a  spoon  up ;  and  every  hour  or  so  she  managed 
to  place  a  pan  of  water  by  me,  quite  as  if  by  accident,  and  some- 
times even  to  spill  a  little  upon  my  shoe  or  coat-sleeve.  But 
Betty  Muxworthy  was  worst;  for,  having  no  fear  about  my 
health,  she  made  a  villainous  joke  of  it,  and  used  to  rush 
into  the  kitchen,  barking  like  a  dog,  and  panting,  exclaiming 
that  I  had  bitten  her,  and  justice  she  would  have  on  me,  if  it 
cost  her  a  twelve-month's  wages.  And  she  always  took  care 
to  do  this  thing,  just  when  I  had  crossed  my  legs  in  the  corner 
after  supper,  and  leaned  my  head  against  the  oven,  to  begin  to 
think:  of  Lorna. 

However,  in  all  things  there  is  comfort,  if  we  do  not  look  too 
hard  for  it ;  and  now  I  had  much  satisfaction,  in  my  uncouth 
state,  from  laboring,  by  the  hour  together,  at  the  hedging  and 
the  ditching,  meeting  the  bitter  wind  face  to  face,  feeling  my 


JOUy   IS  BEWITCHED.  115 

strength  increase,  and  lioping  that  some  one  -wouhl  be  proud  of 
it.  In  the  rustling  rusli  of  every  gust,  in  the  graceful  bend  of 
every  tree,  even  in  the  "Lords  and  Ladies,"  clumped  in  the 
scoops  of  the  hedgerow,  and  most  of  all  in  the  soft  primrose, 
wrung  by  the  wind,  but  stealing  back,  and  smiling  when  the 
wrath  was  past,  —  all  of  these,  and  many  others,  there  was 
aching  ecstasy,  delicious  pang  of  Lorna. 

But  however  cold  the  weather  was,  and  however  hard  the 
wind  blew,  one  thing  (more  than  all  the  rest)  worried  and  per- 
plexed me.  This  was,  that  I  could  not  settle,  turn  and  twist 
it  as  I  might,  how  soon  I  ought  to  go  again  upon  a  visit  to 
Glen  Doone.  For  I  liked  not  at  all  the  falseness  of  it  (albeit 
against  murderers),  the  creeping  out  of  sight,  and  hiding,  and 
feeling  as  a  spy  might.  And  even  more  than  this,  I  feared 
how  Lorna  might  regard  it;  whether  I  might  seem  to  her  a 
prone  and  blunt  intruder,  a  country  youth  not  skilled  in  man- 
ners, as  among  the  quality,  even  when  they  rob  us.  For  I  was 
not  sure  myself,  but  that  it  might  be  very  bad  manners,  to 
go  again  too  early  without  an  invitation;  and  my  hands  and 
face  were  chapped  so  badly  by  the  bitter  wind,  that  Lorna 
might  count  tlieni  unsightly  things,  and  wish  to  see  no  more 
of  them. 

However,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  consult  any  one  upon 
this  point,  at  least  in  our  own  neighborhood,  nor  even  to  speak 
of  it  near  home.  But  the  east  wind  holding  through  the  month, 
my  hands  and  face  growing  worse  and  worse,  and  it  having 
occurred  to  me  by  this  time  that  possibly  Lorna  might  have 
chaps,  if  she  came  abroad  at  all,  and  so  might  like  to  talk  aboxit 
them,  and  show  her  little  hands  to  me,  I  resolved  to  take 
another  opinion,  so  far  as  might  be  upon  this  matter,  without 
disclosing  tlie  circumstances. 

Now  the  wisest  person  in  all  our  parts  was  reckoned  to  be  a 
certain  wise  woman,  well  known  all  over  Exmoor  by  the  name 
of  "Mother  Melldrum."  Her  real  name  was  "Maple  Dur- 
ham," as  I  learned  long  afterwards;  and  slio  came  of  an  ancient 
family,  but  neither  of  Devon  nor  Somerset.  Nevertheless  she 
was  quite  at  home  with  our  proper  modes  of  divination;  and 
knowing  that  we  liked  them  best  —  as  each  man  does  liis  own 
religion  —  slie  would  always  practise  tliem  for  the  people  of  the 
country.  And  all  the  while,  she  would  let  us  know  that  she 
kept  a  higher  and  nobler  mode,  for  those  who  looked  doAvii 
upon  this  on(!,  not  liaving  Ixien  ])red  and  bf)rn  to  it. 

Mother  IMclldnim  liad  two  houscis,  or  ratlic.r  she  had  none  at 
all,  but  two  homes  wiici'cin  to  find  her,  acccjrding  to  tliif  time 


116  LORNA  BOONE. 

of  year.  In  summer  she  lived  in  a  pleasant  cave,  facing  the 
cool  side  of  the  hill,  far  inland  near  Hawkridge,  and  close 
above  "Tarr-steps,"  a  wonderful  crossing  of  Barle  river,  made 
(as  every  body  knows)  by  Satan,  for  a  wager.  But  throughout 
the  winter,  she  found  sea-air  agreeable,  and  a  place  where 
things  could  be  had  on  credit,  and  more  occasion  of  talking. 
Not  but  what  she  could  have  credit  (for  every  one  was  afraid  of 
her)  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tarr-steps ;  only  there  was  no  one 
handy  owning  things  worth  taking. 

Therefore,  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  when  the  woods  grew  damp 
and  irksome,  the  wise  woman  always  set  her  face  to  the  warmer 
cliffs  of  the  Channel;  where  shelter  was,  and  dry  fern  bedding, 
and  folk  to  be  seen  in  the  distance,  from  a  bank  upon  which 
the  sun  shone.  And  there,  as  I  knew  from  our  John  Fry  (who 
had  been  to  her  about  rheumatism,  and  sheep  possessed  with 
an  evil  spirit,  and  warts  on  the  hand  of  his  son,  young  John), 
any  one  who  chose  might  find  her,  towards  the  close  of  a  win- 
ter day,  gathering  sticks  and  brown  fern  for  fuel,  and  talking 
to  herself  the  while,  in  a  hollow  stretch  behind  the  cliffs; 
which  foreigners,  who  come  and  go  without  seeing  much  of 
Exmoor,  have  called  the  "Valley  of  Eocks." 

This  valley,  or  "goyal,"  as  we  term  it,  being  small  for  a 
valley,  lies  to  the  west  of  Linton,  about  a  mile  from  the  town 
perhaps,  and  away  towards  Ley  Manor.  Our  homefolk  always ' 
call  it  the  "Danes,"  or  the  "Denes; "  which  is  no  more,  they 
tell  me,  than  a  hollow  place,  even  as  the  word  "den"  is. 
However,  let  that  pass,  for  I  know  very  little  about  it ;  but  the 
place  itself  is  a  pretty  one;  though  nothing  to  frighten  any 
body,  unless  he  hath  lived  in  a  gallipot.  It  is  a  green  rough- 
sided  hollow,  bending  at  the  middle,  touched  with  stone  at 
either  crest,  and  dotted  here  and  there  with  slabs,  in  and  out 
the  brambles.  On  the  right  hand  is  an  vipward  crag,  called  by 
some  the  "  Castle,"  easy  enough  to  scale,  and  giving  great  view 
of  the  Channel.  Facing  this,  from  the  inland  side  and  the 
elbow  of  the  valley,  a  queer  old  pile  of  rock  arises,  bold  behind 
one  another,  and  quite  enough  to  affright  a  man,  if  it  only 
were  ten  times  larger.  This  is  called  the  "Devil's  Cheese- 
ring,"  or  the  "Devil's  Cheese-knife,"  which  mean  the  same 
thing,  as  our  fathers  were  used  to  eat  their  cheese  from  a 
scoop ;  and  perhaps  in  old  time  the  upmost  rock  (which  has 
fallen  away  since  I  knew  it)  was  like  to  such  an  implement,  if 
Satan  eat  cheese  untoasted. 

But  all  the  middle  of  this  valley  was  a  place  to  rest  in;  to 
sit  and  think  that  troubles  were  not,  if  we  wou.ld  not  make 


JOUN  IS  BEWITCHED.  117 

them.  To  know  the  sea,  outside  the  hills,  but  never  to  behold 
it ;  only  by  the  sound  of  ^vaves,  to  pity  sailors  laboring.  Then 
to  watch  the  sheltered  sun,  coming  warml}'  round  the  turn,  like 
a  guest  expected,  full  of  gentle  glow  and  gladness,  casting 
shadow  far  away  as  a  thing  to  hug  itself,  and  awakening  life 
from  dew,  and  hope  from  every  spreading  bud.  And  then  to 
fall  asleep,  and  dream  that  the  fern  was  all  asparagus. 

Alas,  I  was  too  young  in  those  days  much  to  care  for  creature 
comforts,  or  to  let  pure  palate  have  things  that  would  improve 
it.  Any  thing  went  down  with  me,  as  it  does  with  most  of  us. 
Too  late  we  know  the  good  from  bad:  the  knowledge  is  no 
pleasure  then;  being  memory's  medicine,  rather  than  the  wine 
of  hope. 

jS'ow  Mother  Melldrum  kept  her  winter  in  this  vale  of  rocks, 
sheltering  from  the  wind  and  rain  within  the  Devil's  Cheese- 
ring;  which  added  greatly  to  her  fame,  because  all  else,  for 
miles  around,  were  afraid  to  go  near  it  after  dark,  or  even  on 
a  gloomy  day.  Under  eaves  of  lichened  rock,  she  had  a  wind- 
ing passage,  which  none  that  ever  I  knew  of  durst  enter  but 
herself.  And  to  this  place  I  went  to  seek  her,  in  spite  of  all 
misgivings,  upon  a  Sunday  in  Lenten  season,  when  the  sheep 
were  folded. 

Our  parson  (as  if  he  had  known  my  intent)  had  preached  a 
beautiful  sermon  about  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  the  perils  of 
them  that  meddle  wantonly  with  the  unseen  Powers;  and 
therein  he  referred  especially  to  the  strange  noise  in  our  neigh- 
borhood, and  upbraided  us  for  want  of  faith,  and  many  other 
backslidings.  We  listened  to  him  very  earnestly,  for  we  like 
to  hear  from  our  betters  about  things  that  are  beyond  us,  and 
to  be  roused  up  now  and  then,  like  sheep  with  a  good  dog  after 
them,  who  can  pull  some  wool  without  biting.  Nevertheless 
we  could  not  see,  how  our  want  of  faith  could  have  made  that 
noise,  especially  at  night  time;  notwithstanding  which,  we 
believed  it,  and  hoped  to  do  a  little  better. 

And  so  we  all  came  home  from  church ;  and  most  of  the  peo- 
ple dined  with  us,  as  they  always  do  on  Sundays,  because  of 
the  distance  to  go  home,  with  only  Avords  inside  them.  The 
j)arson,  who  always  sat  next  to  mother,  was  afraid  that  he  might 
have  vexed  us,  and  would  not  have  the  best  piece  of  meat, 
according  to  his  custom.  Ikit  soon  we  put  him  at  his  ease,  and 
showed  him  we  were  proud  of  him;  and  then  he  made  no  more 
to  do,  but  accepted  the  best  of  the  sirloin. 


118  LOBNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WITCHERY  LEADS  TO  WITCHCRAFT. 

Although  well  nigli  the  end  of  March,  the  wind  blew  wild 
and  piercing,  as  I  went  on  foot,  that  afternoon,  to  Mother  Mell- 
drum's  dwelling.  It  was  safer  not  to  take  a  horse,  lest  (if 
anything  vexed  her)  she  should  put  a  spell  upon  him;  as  had 
been  done  to  Farmer  Snowe's  stable,  by  the  wise  woman  of 
Simonsbath. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  edge  of  the  hills,  by  the  time  I 
entered  the  valley,  for  I  could  not  leave  home  till  the  cattle 
were  tended,  and  the  distance  was  seven  miles  or  more.  The 
shadows  of  rocks  fell  far  and  deep,  and  the  brown  dead  fern 
was  fluttering,  and  brambles  with  their  sere  leaves  hanging, 
swayed  their  tatters  to  and  fro,  with  a  red  look  on  them.  In 
patches  underneath  the  crags,  a  few  wild  goats  were  browsing; 
tlien  they  tossed  their  horns,  and  fled,  and  leaped  on  ledges, 
and  stared  at  me.  Moreover,  the  sound  of  the  sea  came  up, 
and  went  the  length  of  the  valley,  and  there  it  lapped  on  a 
butt  of  rocks,  and  murmured  like  a  shell. 

Taking  things  one  with  another,  and  feeling  all  the  lone- 
someness,  and  having  no  stick  with  me,  I  was  much  inclined 
to  go  briskly  back,  and  come  at  a  better  season.  And  when  I 
beheld  a  tall  gray  shape,  of  something  or  another,  moving  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  valley,  where  the  shade  was,  it  gave  me 
such  a  stroke  of  fear,  after  many  others,  that  my  thumb  which 
lay  in  mother's  Bible  (brought  in  my  big  pocket,  for  the  sake 
of  safety)  shook  so  much  that  it  came  out,  and  I  could  not  get 
it  in  again.  "This  serves  me  right,"  I  said  to  myself,  "for 
tampering  with  Beelzebub.     Oh  that  I  had  listened  to  Parson !  " 

And  thereupon  I  struck  aside;  not  liking  to  run  away  quite, 
as  some  people  might  call  it;  but  seeking  to  look  like  a  wan- 
derer, who  was  come  to  see  the  valley,  and  had  seen  almost 
enough  of  it.  Herein  I  should  have  succeeded,  and  gone  home, 
and  then  been  angry  at  my  want  of  courage,  but  that  on  the 
very  turn  and  bending  of  my  footsteps,  the  woman  in  the  dis- 
tance lifted  up  her  staff  to  me ;  so  that  I  was  bound  to  stop. 

And  now,  being  brought  face  to  face,  by  the  will  of  God  (as 
one  might  say)  with  anything  that  might  come  of  it,  I  kept 
myself  quite  straight  and  stiff,  and  thrust  away  all  white 
feather,  trusting  in  my  Bible  still,  hoping  that  it  would  protect 


WITCHERT  LEADS    TO    WITCHCRAFT.  119 

me,  though  I  had  disobeyed  it.  But  upon  that  remembrance, 
my  conscience  took  me  by  the  leg,  so  that  I  could  not  go  for- 
ward. 

All  this  while,  the  fearful  woman  was  coming  near,  and 
more  near  to  me ;  and  I  was  glad  to  sit  down  on  a  rock,  because 
my  knees  were  shaking  so.  I  tried  to  think  of  many  things, 
but  none  of  them  would  come  to  me ;  and  I  could  not  take  my 
eyes  away,  though  I  prayed  Heaven  to  be  near  me. 

But  when  she  was  come  so  nigh  to  me,  that  I  could  descry 
her  features,  there  was  something  in  her  countenance  that 
made  me  not  dislike  her.  She  looked  as  if  she  had  been  visited 
by  a  many  troubles,  and  had  felt  them  one  by  one ;  yet  held 
enough  of  kindly  nature  still  to  grieve  for  others.  Long  white 
hair,  on  either  side,  was  falling  doAvn  below  her  chin;  and 
through  her  wrinkles,  clear  bright  eyes  seemed  to  spread  them- 
selves upon  me.  Though  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  think,  I  was 
taken  by  surprise  no  less,  and  unable  to  say  anything;  yet 
eager  to  hear  the  silence  broken,  and  longing  for  a  noise  or  two. 

"  Thou  art  not  come  to  me, "  she  said,  looking  through  my 
simple  face,  as  if  it  were  Bristol  pebbles,  "  to  be  struck  for  bone- 
shave,  nor  to  be  blessed  for  barn-gun.  Give  me  forth  thy 
hand,  John  Eidd;  and  tell  why  thou  art  come  to  me." 

But  I  was  so  much  amazed,  at  her  knowing  my  name  and  all 
about  me,  that  I  feared  to  place  my  hand  in  her  power,  or  even 
my  tongue  by  speaking. 

"  Have  no  fear  of  me,  my  son ;  I  have  no  gift  to  harm  thee ; 
and  if  I  had,  it  should  be  idle.  Now,  if  thou  hast  any  wit,  tell 
me  why  I  love  thee." 

"I  never  had  any  wit,  mother,"  I  answered,  in  our  Devon- 
shire way;  "and  never  set  eyes  on  thee  before,  to  the  furthest 
of  my  knowledge." 

"  And  yet  I  know  thee  as  well,  John,  as  if  thou  wert  my 
grandson.  Kemember  you  tlie  old  Oare  oak,  and  the  bog  at 
the  head  of  Exe,  and  the  child  who  would  have  died  there, 
but  for  thy  strength  and  courage,  and  most  of  all  thy  kind- 
ness? That  was  my  granddaughter,  John;  and  all  I  have  on 
earth  to  love." 

Now  that  she  came  to  speak  of  it,  with  the  place  and  tliat, 
so  clearly,  I  remembered  all  about  it  (a  thing  that  happened 
last  August),  and  thought  liow  stupid  I  must  liave  been,  not  to 
learn  more  of  the  little  maid,  wlio  had  falh-n  into  tiu?  black  pit, 
with  a  basketful  of  whortleberries,  and  who  might  have  been 
gulfed,  if  lier  little  dog  liad  not  spied  me  in  the  distance.  I 
carried  Jier  on  my  l)ack  to  mother;  and  then  we  dressed  her  all 


120  LORN  A  BOONE. 

anew,  and  took  her  where  she  ordered  us ;  but  she  did  not  tell 
us  who  she  was,  nor  any  thing  more  than  her  Christian  name, 
and  that  she  was  eight  years  old,  and  fond  of  fried  batatas. 
And  we  did  not  seek  to  ask  her  more ;  as  our  manner  is  with 
visitors. 

But  thinking  of  this  little  story,  and  seeing  how  she  looked 
at  me,  I  lost  my  fear  of  Mother  Melldrum,  and  began  to  like 
her;  partly  because  I  had  helped  her  grandchild,  and  partly 
that  if  she  were  so  wise,  no  need  would  have  been  for  me  to 
save  the  little  maid  from  drowning.  Therefore  I  stood  up  and 
said,  though  scarcely  yet  established  in  my  power  against 
hers, — 

"  Good  mother,  the  shoe  she  lost  was  in  the  mire,  and  not 
with  us.  And  we  could  not  match  it,  although  we  gave  her  a 
pair  of  sister  Lizzie's." 

"My  son,  what  care  I  for  her  shoe?  How  simple  thou  art, 
and  foolish;  according  to  the  thoughts  of  some.  Now  tell 
me,  for  thou  canst  not  lie,  what  has  brought  thee  to  me." 

Being  so  ashamed  and  bashful,  I  was  half- inclined  to  tell  her 
a  lie,  until  she  said  that  I  could  not  do  it;  and  then  I  knew 
that  I  could  not. 

"  I  am  come  to  know, "  I  said,  looking  at  a  rock  the  while, 
to  keep  my  voice  from  shaking,  "  when  I  may  go  to  see  Lorna 
Doone." 

No  more  could  I  say,  though  my  mind  was  charged  to  ask 
fifty  other  questions.  But  although  I  looked  away,  it  was 
plain  that  I  had  asked  enough.  I  felt  that  the  wise  woman 
gazed  at  me  in  wrath,  as  well  as  sorrow ;  and  then  I  grew  angry 
that  any  one  should  seem  to  make  light  of  Lorna. 

"John  Eidd,"  said  the  woman,  observing  this  (for  now  I 
faced  her  bravely),  "of  whom  art  thou  speaking?  Is  it  a 
comely  daughter  of  the  men  who  slew  your  father?" 

"I  cannot  tell,  mother.  How  should  I  know?  And  what 
is  that  to  thee?" 

"It  is  something  to  thy  mother,  John;  and  something  to 
thyself,  I  trow;  and  nothing  worse  could  befall  thee." 

I  waited  for  her  to  speak  again;  because  she  had  spoken  so 
sadly,  that  it  took  my  breath  away. 

"  John  Ridd,  if  thou  hast  any  value  for  thy  body  or  thy  soul, 
thy  mother,  or  thy  father's  name,  have  nought  to  do  with  any 
Doone." 

She  gazed  at  me  in  earnest  so,  and  raised  her  voice  in  say- 
ing it,  until  the  whole  valley,  curving  like  a  great  bell,  echoed 
"Doone,"  that  it  seemed  to  me  my  heart  was  gone,  for  every 


WITCHERY  LEADS   TO    WITCnCBAFT.  121 

one  and  every  thing.  If  it  were  God's  will  for  me  to  have  no 
more  of  Lorua,  let  a  sign  come  out  of  the  rocl^s,  and  I  would 
try  to  believe  it.  But  no  sign  came;  and  1  turned  on  the 
woman,  and  longed  that  she  had  been  a  man. 

"  You  poor  dame,  with  bones  and  blades,  pails  of  water,  and 
door-keys,  what  know  you  about  the  destiny  of  a  maiden  such 
as  Lorna?  Chill-blain  you  may  treat,  and  bone-shave,  ring- 
worm, and  the  scaldings;  even  scabby  sheep  may  limp  the 
better  for  your  strikings.  John  the  Baptist,  and  his  ccmsins, 
with  tlie  wool  and  hyssop,  are  for  mares,  and  ailing  dogs,  and 
fowls  that  have  the  jaundice.  Look  at  me  now,  Mother  Mell- 
drum,  am  1  like  a  fool?" 

" That  thou  art,  my  son.  Alas  that  it  were  any  other!  Now 
behold  the  end  of  that;  John  Ridd,  mark  the  end  of  it." 

She  pointed  to  the  castle-rock,  where  upon  a  narrow  shelf, 
betwixt  us  and  the  coming  stars,  a  bitter  light  was  raging.  A 
fine  fat  sheep,  with  an  honest  face,  had  clomb  up  very  care- 
fully, to  browse  on  a  bit  of  juicy  grass,  now  the  dew  of  the 
land  was  upon  it.  To  him,  from  an  upper  crag,  a  lean  black 
goat  came  hurrying,  with  leaps,  and  skirmish  of  the  horns, 
and  an  angry  noise  in  his  nostrils.  The  goat  had  grazed  the 
place  before,  to  the  utmost  of  his  liking,  cropping  in  and  out 
with  jerks,  as  their  manner  is  of  feeding.  Nevertheless  he  fell 
on  the  sheep,  with  fury  and  great  malice. 

The  simple  wether  was  much  inclined  to  retire  from  the 
contest,  but  looked  around  in  vain  for  any  way  to  peace  and 
comfort.  His  enemy  stood  between  him  and  the  last  leap  he 
had  taken;  there  was  nothing  left  liim  but  to  tight,  or  be 
hurled  into  the  sea,  five  hundred  feet  below. 

"  Lie  down,  lie  down !  "  I  shouted  to  him,  as  if  he  were  a  dog; 
for  I  had  seen  a  battle  like  this  before,  and  knew  that  the  sheep 
had  no  chance  of  life,  except  from  his  greater  weight,  and  the 
difficulty  of  moving  him. 

"Lie  down,  lie  down,  John  Ridd!"  cried  Mother  Melldrum, 
mocking  me,  but  without  a  sign  of  smiling. 

The  poor  sheep  turned,  upon  my  voice,  and  looked  at  me  so 
piteously  that  I  could  look  no  longer;  but  ran  with  all  my 
speed,  to  try  and  save  him  from  the  combat.  He  saw  that  I 
could  not  be  in  time,  for  the  goat  was  bucking  to  leaj.  at  him, 
and  so  the  good  wether  stooped  his  forehead,  with  the  harm- 
less horns  curling  aside  of  it;  and  the  goat  flung  his  heels  up, 
and  rushed  at  him,  with  quick  sharp  jumps  and  tricks  of  move- 
ment, and  the  ])oints  of  liis  long  liorns  always  foremost,  and 
his  little  scut  cocked  like  a  gun-hauimer. 


122  LOBNA  BOONE. 

As  I  ran  up  the  steep  of  the  rock,  I  could  not  see  what  they 
were  doing ;  but  the  sheep  must  have  fought  very  bravely  at 
last,  and  yielded  his  ground  quite  slowly,  and  I  hoped  almost 
to  save  him.  But  just  as  my  head  topped  the  platform  of  rock, 
I  saw  him  flung  from  it  backward,  with  a  sad  low  moan  and  a 
gurgle.  His  body  made  a  vanishing  noise  in  the  air,  like  a 
bucket  thrown  down  a  well-shaft,  and  I  could  not  tell  when  it 
struck  the  water,  except  by  the  echo  among  the  rocks.  So  wrotli 
was  I  with  the  goat  at  the  moment  (being  somewhat  scant  of 
breath,  and  unable  to  consider),  that  I  caught  him  by  the  right 
hind-leg,  before  he  could  turn  from  his  victory,  and  hurled  him 
after  the  sheep,  to  learn  how  he  liked  his  own  compulsion. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ANOTHER    DANGEROUS    INTERVIEW. 

Although  I  left  the  Denes  at  once,  having  little  heart  for 
further  questions  of  the  wise  woman,  and  being  afraid  to  visit 
her  house  under  the  "Devil's  Cheese-ring"  (to  which  she 
kindly  invited  me),  and  although  I  ran  most  part  of  the  way, 
it  was  very  late  for  farmhouse  time  upon  a  Sunday  evening, 
before  I  was  back  at  Plover's  Bari-ows.  My  mother  had  great 
desire  to  know  all  about  the  matter ;  1  nit  I  could  not  reconcile 
it  with  my  respect  so  to  frighten  her.  Therefore  I  tried  to 
sleep  it  off,  keeping  my  own  counsel ;  and  when  that  proved  of 
no  avail,  I  strove  to  work  it  away,  if  might  be,  by  heavy  out- 
door labor,  and  weariness  and  good  feeding.  These  indeed 
had  some  elfect,  and  helped  to  pass  a  week  or  two,  with  more 
pain  of  hand  than  heart  to  me. 

But  when  the  weather  changed  in  earnest,  and  the  frost  was 
gone,  and  the  south-west  wind  blew  softly,  and  the  lambs  were 
at  play  with  the  daisies,  it  was  more  than  I  could  do  to  keep 
from  thought  of  Lorna.  For  now  the  fields  were  spread  with 
growth,  and  the  waters  clad  with  sunshine;  and  light  and 
shadow,  step  by  step,  wandered  over  the  furzy  cleves.  All 
the  sides  of  the  hilly  wood  were  gathered  in  and  out  with 
green,  silver-gray,  or  russet  points,  according  to  the  several 
manner  of  the  trees  beginning.  And  if  one  stood  beneath  an 
elm,  with  any  heart  to  look  at  it,  lo !  all  the  ground  was  strewn 
with  flakes  (too  small  to  know  their  meaning),  and  all  the 
sprays  above  were  rasped  and  trembling  with  a  redness.     And 


ANOTHER   DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  123 

SO  I  stopped  beneath  the  tree,  and  carved  L.  D.  upon  it,  and 
wondered  at  the  buds  of  thought  that  seemed  to  swell  inside 
me. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was  this,  that  as  no  Lorna  came  to  me, 
except  in  dreams  or  fancy,  and  as  my  life  was  not  worth  living 
without  constant  sign  of  her,  forth  I  must  again  to  find  her, 
and  say  more  than  a  man  can  tell.  Therefore,  without  wait- 
ing longer  for  the  moving  of  the  spring,  dressed  I  was  in  grand 
attire  (so  far  as  I  had  gotten  it),  and  thinking  my  appearance 
good,  although  with  doubts  about  it  (being  forced  to  dress  in 
the  hay-tallat),  round  the  corner  of  the  wood-stack,  went  I 
very  knowingly  —  for  Lizzie's  eyes  were  wondrous  sharp  —  and 
thus  I  was  sure  of  meeting  none,  who  would  care  or  dare  to 
speak  of  me. 

It  lay  upon  my  conscience  often,  that  I  had  not  made  dear 
Annie  secret  to  tliis  history;  although  in  all  things  I  could 
trust  her,  and  she  loved  me  like  a  lamb.  Many  and  many  a 
time  I  tried,  and  more  than  once  began  the  thing;  but  there 
came  a  dryness  in  my  throat,  and  a  knocking  under  the  roof  of 
my  mouth,  and  a  longing  to  put  it  oft"  again,  as  perhaps  might 
be  the  wisest.  And  then  I  would  remember  too,  that  I  had  no 
riglit  to  speak  of  Lorna,  as  if  she  were  common  property. 

This  time  I  longed  to  take  my  gun,  and  was  half  resolved  to 
do  so;  because  it  seemed  so  hard  a  thing  to  be  shot  at,  and 
have  no  chance  of  shooting;  but  when  I  came  to  remember  the 
steepness,  and  the  slippery  nature  of  the  water-slide,  there 
seemed  but  little  likelihood  of  keeping  dry  the  powder.  There- 
fore I  was  armed  with  nothing,  but  a  good  stout  holly  staff, 
seasoned  well  for  many  a  winter,  in  our  back -kitchen  chimney. 

Altliough  my  heart  was  leaping  high,  with  the  prospect  of 
some  adventure,  and  the  fear  of  meeting  Lorna,  I  could  not 
but  be  gladdened  by  the  softness  of  the  weather,  and  the  wel- 
come way  of  every  thing.  There  was  that  jjower  all  around, 
that  power  and  that  goodness,  which  make  us  come,  as  it  were, 
outside  our  bodily  selves,  to  sliare  them.  Over,  and  beside  us, 
breathes  the  joy  of  hope  and  promise;  under  foot  are  troubles 
past;  in  the  distance,  bowering  newness  tempts  us  ever  for- 
ward. We  rise  into  quick  sense  of  life,  and  spring  through 
clouds  of  mystery. 

And,  in  good  sooth,  I  had  to  spring,  and  no  mystery  about 
it,  ere  ever  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  rift  leading  into  Doone- 
glade.  For  the  stream  was  rushing  down  in  strength,  and 
raving  at  every  corn(!r;  a  mort  of  rain  having  faljen  last  night, 
and  no  wind  come  to  wipe  it.     However,  I  reached  the  head 


124  LORN  A   BOONE. 

ere  dark,  with  more  difficulty  than  danger;  and  sat  in  a  place, 
which  comforted  my  back  and  legs  desirably. 

Hereupon  I  grew  so  happy,  at  being  on  dry  land  again,  and 
come  to  look  for  Lorna,  with  pretty  trees  around  me,  that  what 
did  I  do  but  fall  asleep  with  the  holly-stick  in  front  of  me, 
and  my  best  coat  sunk  in  a  bed  of  moss,  among  wetness  and 
wood-sorrel.  Mayhap  I  had  not  done  so,  nor  yet  enjoyed  the 
spring  so  much,  if  so  be  I  had  not  taken  three-parts  of  a  gallon 
of  cider,  at  home  at  Plover's  Barrows,  because  of  the  lowness, 
and  the  sinking,  ever  since  I  met  Mother  Melldrum. 

There  was  a  little  runnel,  going  softly  down  beside  me,  fall- 
ing from  the  upper  rock,  by  the  means  of  moss  and  grass,  as 
if  it  feared  to  make  a  noise,  and  had  a  mother  sleeping.  Now 
and  then  it  seemed  to  stop,  in  fear  of  its  own  dropping,  and 
waiting  for  some  orders ;  and  the  blades  of  grass  that  straight- 
ened to  it  turned  their  points  a  little  way,  and  offered  their 
allegiance  to  wind  instead  of  water.  Yet,  before  their  carkled 
edges  bent  more  than  a  driven  saw,  down  the  water  came 
again,  with  heavy  drops,  and  pats  of  running,  and  bright 
anger  at  neglect. 

This  was  very  pleasant  to  me,  now  and  then,  to  gaze  at; 
blinking  as  the  water  blinked,  and  falling  back  to  sleep  again. 
Suddenly  my  sleep  was  broken  by  a  shade  cast  over  me;  be- 
tween me  and  the  low  sunlight,  Lorna  Doone  was  standing. 

"  Master  Ridd,  are  you  mad  ?  "  she  said,  and  took  my  hand 
to  move  me. 

"Not  mad,  but  half  asleep,"  I  answered,  feigning  not  to 
notice  her,  that  so  she  might  keep  hold  of  me. 

"  Come  away,  come  away,  if  you  care  for  life.  The  patrol 
will  be  here  directly.  Be  quick.  Master  Ridd,  let  me  hide 
thee." 

"I  will  not  stir  a  step,"  said  I,  though  being  in  the  greatest 
fright  that  might  well  be  imagined;  "unless  you  call  me 
'John.'" 

"Well,  John,  then  —  Master  John  Ridd;  be  quick,  if  you 
have  any  to  care  for  you." 

"I  have  many  that  care  for  me,"  I  said,  just  to  let  her 
know;  "and  I  will  follow  you.  Mistress  Lorna;  albeit  with- 
out any  hurry,  unless  there  be  peril  to  more  than  me." 

Without  another  word,  she  led  me,  though  with  many  timid 
glances  towards  the  upper  valley,  to,  and  into,  her  little  bower, 
where  the  inlet  through  the  rock  was.  I  am  almost  sure  that 
I  spoke  before  (though  I  cannot  now  go  seek  for  it,  and  my 
memory  is  but  a  worn-out  tub)  of  a  certain  deep  and  perilous 


ANOTHER   DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  125 

pit,  in  which  I  Avas  like  to  drown  myself,  through  hurry  and 
fright  of  boyhood.  And  even  then  I  wondered  greatly,  and 
was  vexed  with  Lorna,  for  sending  me  in  that  heedless  manner 
into  such  an  entrance.  But  now  it  was  clear,  that  she  had 
been  right,  and  the  fault  mine  own  entirely ;  for  the  entrance 
to  the  pit  was  only  to  be  found  by  seeking  it.  Inside  the 
niche  of  native  stone,  the  plainest  thing  of  all  to  see,  at  any 
rate  by  daylight,  was  the  stairway  hewn  from  rock,  and  lead- 
ing up  the  mountain,  by  means  of  which  I  had  escaped,  as 
before  related.  To  the  right  side  of  this  was  the  mouth  of  the 
pit,  still  looking  very  formidable;  though  Lorna  laughed  at 
my  fear  of  it,  for  she  drew  her  water  thence.  But  on  the  left 
was  a  narrow  crevice,  very  difficult  to  espy,  and  having  a 
sweep  of  gray  ivy  laid,  like  a  slouching  beaver,  over  it.  A 
man  here  coming  from  the  brightness  of  the  outer  air,  with 
eyes  dazed  by  the  twilight,  would  never  think  of  seeing  this, 
and  following  it  to  its  meaning. 

Lorna  raised  the  screen  for  me,  but  I  had  much  ado  to  pass, 
on  account  of  bulk  and  stature.  Instead  of  being  proud  of  my 
size  (as  it  seemed  to  me  she  ought  to  be)  Lorna  laughed  so 
quietly,  that  I  was  ready  to  knock  my  head  or  elbows  against 
any  tiling,  and  say  no  more  about  it.  However,  I  got  through 
at  last,  without  a  word  of  compliment,  and  broke  into  the 
pleasant  room,  the  lone  retreat  of  Lorna. 

The  chamber  was  of  unhewn  rock,  round,  as  near  as  might 
be,  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  across,  and  gay  with  rich  variety 
of  fern,  and  moss,  and  lichen.  The  fern  was  in  its  winter 
still,  or  coiling  for  the  spring-tide ;  but  moss  was  in  abundant 
life,  some  feathering,  and  some  gobleted,  and  some  with  fringe 
of  red  to  it.  Overhead  there  was  no  ceiling  but  the  sky  itself, 
flaked  with  little  clouds  of  April  whitely  wandering  over  it. 
The  floor  was  made  of  soft,  low  grass,  mixed  with  moss  and 
primroses ;  and  in  a  niche  of  shelter  moved  the  delicate  wood- 
sorrel.  Here  and  there,  around  the  sides,  were  "chairs  of 
living  stone,"  as  souk;  Latin  writer  says,  whose  name  has  quite 
escaped  me;  and  in  the  midst  a  tiny  spring  arose,  with  crys- 
tal beads  in  it,  and  a  soft  voice  as  of  a  laughing  dream,  and 
dimples  like  a  sleeping  babe.  Then,  after  going  round  a 
little,  with  surprise  of  daylight,  tlie  water  overwelled  the  edge, 
and  softly  went  through  lines  of  light,  to  shadows  and  an 
untold  bourne. 

While  I  was  gazing  at  all  these  things,  witli  wonder  and 
some  sadness,  Ijorua  turned  upon  mo  ligliLly  (as  her  manner 
was)  and  said, — 


126  LORNA   BOONE. 

"  Where  are  the  new-laid  eggs,  Master  Ridd  ?  Or  hath  blue 
hen  ceased  laying  ?  " 

I  did  not  altogether  like  the  way  in  which  she  said  it,  with 
a  sort  of  a  dialect,  as  if  my  speech  could  be  laughed  at. 

"Here  be  some,"  I  answered,  speaking  as  if  in  spite  of  her. 
"  I  would  have  broiight  thee  twice  as  many,  but  that  I  feared 
to  crush  them  in  the  narrow  ways.  Mistress  Lorna." 

And  so  I  laid  her  out  two  dozen  upon  the  moss  of  the  rock 
ledge,  unwinding  the  wisp  of  hay  from  each,  as  it  came  safe 
out  of  my  pocket.  Lorna  looked  with  growing  wonder,  as  I 
added  one  to  one;  and  when  I  had  placed  them  side  by  side, 
and  bidden  her  now  to  tell  them,  to  my  amazement  what  did 
she  do  but  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears ! 

"  What  have  I  done  ? "  I  asked,  with  shame,  scarce  daring 
even  to  look  at  her,  because  her  grief  was  not  like  Annie's  — 
a  thing  that  could  be  coaxed  away,  and  left  a  joy  in  going  — 
**  oh,  what  have  I  done  to  vex  you  so  ?  " 

"It  is  nothing  done  by  you,  Master  Eidd,"  she  answered, 
very  proudly,  as  if  nought  I  did  could  matter ;  "  it  is  only 
something  that  comes  upon  me,  with  the  scent  of  the  pure 
true  clover-hay.  Moreover,  you  have  been  too  kind;  and  I 
am  not  used  to  kindness." 

Some  sort  of  awkwardness  was  on  me,  at  her  words  and 
weeping,  as  if  I  would  like  to  say  something,  but  feared  to 
make  things  worse  perhaps  than  they  were  already.  There- 
fore I  abstained  from  speech,  as  I  wovild  in  my  own  pain. 
And  as  it  happened,  this  was  the  way  to  make  her  tell  me 
more  about  it.  Not  that  I  was  curious,  beyond  what  pity 
urged  me,  and  the  strange  affairs  around  her ;  and  now  I  gazed 
upon  the  floor,  lest  I  shovild  seem  to  watch  her;  but  none  the 
less  for  that  I  knew  all  that  she  was  doing. 

Lorna  went  a  little  way,  as  if  she  would  not  think  of  me, 
nor  care  for  one  so  careless ;  and  all  my  heart  gave  a  sudden 
jump,  to  go  like  a  mad  thing  after  her;  until  she  turned  of 
her  own  accord,  and  with  a  little  sigh  came  back  to  me.  Her 
eyes  were  soft  with  trouble's  shadow,  and  the  proud  lift  of 
her  neck  was  gone,  and  beauty's  vanity  borne  down  by  woman's 
want  of  sustenance. 

"Master  Ridd,"  she  said  in  the  softest  voice  that  ever  flowed 
between  two  lips,  "  have  I  done  aught  to  offend  you  ?  " 

Hereupon  it  went  hard  with  me,  not  to  catch  her  up  and 
kiss  her,  in  the  manner  in  which  she  was  looking;  only  it 
smote  me  suddenly,  that  this  would  be  a  low  advantage  of  her 
trust  and  helplessness.     She  seemed  to  know  what  I  would  be 


ANOTHEB   DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  127 

at,  and  to  doubt  very  greatly  about  it,  whether  as  a  child  of 
old  she  might  permit  the  usage.  All  sorts  of  things  went 
through  my  head,  as  I  made  myself  look  away  from  her,  for 
fear  of  being  tempted  beyond  what  I  could  bear.  And  the 
upshot  of  it  was,  that  I  said,  within  my  heart  and  through  it, 
"John  Ridd,  be  on  thy  very  best  manners  with  this  lonely 
maiden." 

Lorna  liked  me  all  the  better  for  my  good  forbearance ;  be- 
cause she  did  not  love  me  yet,  and  had  not  thought  about  it; 
at  least  so  far  as  I  knew.  And  though  her  eyes  were  so  beau- 
teous, so  very  soft  and  kindly,  there  was  (to  my  apprehen- 
sion) some  great  power  in  them,  as  if  she  would  not  have  a 
thing,  unless  her  judgment  leaped  with  it. 

But  now  her  judgment  leaped  with  me,  because  I  had  be- 
haved so  well;  and  being  of  quick  urgent  nature  —  such  as 
1  delight  in,  for  the  change  from  mine  owii  slowness  —  she, 
without  any  let  or  hindrance,  sitting  over  against  me,  now 
raising  and  now  dropping  fringe,  over  those  sweet  eyes  that 
were  the  road-lights  of  her  tongue,  Lorna  told  me  all  about 
every  thing  I  wished  to  know,  every  little  thing  she  knew, 
except  indeed  that  point  of  points,  how  Master  Ridd  stood 
with  her. 

Although  it  wearied  me  no  whit,  it  might  be  wearisome  for 
folk  who  cannot  look  at  Lorna,  to  hear  the  story  all  in  speech, 
exactly  as  she  told  it;  therefore  let  me  put  it  shortly,  to  the 
best  of  my  remembrance. 

Kay,  pardon  me,  whosoever  thou  art,  for  seeming  fickle  and 
rude  to  thee ;  I  have  tried  to  do  as  first  proposed,  to  tell  the 
tale  in  my  own  words,  as  of  another's  fortune.  ]5ut,  lo!  I 
was  beset  at  once  with  many  heavy  obstacles,  whicli  grew  as  I 
went  onward,  until  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  and  mingled  past 
and  present.  And  two  of  these  difficulties  only  were  enough 
to  stop  me;  the  one  that  I  must  coldly  speak,  witliout  tlie  force 
of  pity,  the  other  that  I,  off  and  on,  confused  myself  with 
Lorna,  as  miglit  he  well  expected. 

Therefore  let  her  tell  the  story,  with  her  own  sweet  voice 
and  manner;  and  if  ye  find  it  wearisome,  seek  in  yourselves 
the  weariness. 


128  LORN  A   DOONE. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

LOBNA   BEGINS    HER   STORY. 

"I  CANXOT  go  through  all  my  thoughts,  so  as  to  make  them 
clear  to  you,  nor  have  I  ever  dAvelt  on  things,  to  shape  a  story 
of  them.  I  know  not  where  the  beginning  was,  nor  where  the 
middle  ought  to  be,  nor  even  how  at  the  present  time  I  feel, 
or  think,  or  ought  to  think.  If  I  look  for  help  to  those  around 
me,  who  should  tell  me  right  and  wrong  (being  older  and  much 
wiser),  I  meet  sometimes  with  laughter,  and  at  other  times 
with  anger. 

"  There  are  but  two  in  the  world,  who  ever  listen  and  try  to 
help  me ;  one  of  them  is  my  grandfather,  and  the  other  is  a 
man  of  wisdom,  whom  we  call  the  Counsellor.  My  grand- 
father. Sir  Ensor  Doone,  is  very  old  and  harsh  of  manner 
(except  indeed  to  me) ;  he  seems  to  know  what  is  right  and 
wrong,  but  not  to  want  to  think  of  it.  The  Counsellor,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  full  of  life  and  subtleties,  treats  my 
questions  as  of  pla}',  and  not  gravely  worth  his  while  to 
answer,  unless  he  can  make  wit  of  them. 

"  And  among  the  women,  there  are  none  with  whom  I  can 
hold  converse,  since  my  Aunt  Sabina  died,  who  took  such 
pains  to  teach  me.  She  was  a  lady  of  high  repute,  and  lofty 
ways,  and  learning,  but  grieved  and  harassed  more  and  more, 
by  the  coarseness,  and  the  violence,  and  the  ignorance,  around 
her.  In  vain  she  strove,  from  year  to  year,  to  make  the 
young  men  hearken,  to  teach  them  what  became  their  birth, 
and  give  them  sense  of  honor.  It  was  her  favorite  word,  poor 
thing!  and  they  called  her  'Old  Aunt  Honor.'  Very  often  she 
used  to  say,  that  I  was  her  only  comfort,  and  I  am  sure  she 
was  my  only  one;  and  when  she  died,  it  was  more  to  me  than 
if  I  had  lost  a  mother. 

"  For  I  have  no  remembrance  now  of  father,  or  of  mother ; 
although  they  say  that  my  father  was  the  eldest  son  of  Sir 
Ensor  Doone,  and  the  bravest,  and  the  best  of  them.  And 
so  they  call  me  heiress  to  this  little  realm  of  violence;  and  in 
sorry  sport  sometimes,  I  am  their  Princess,  or  their  Queen. 

"  Many  people  living  here,  as  I  am  forced  to  do,  would  per- 
haps be  very  happy,  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  be  so.  We  have 
a  beauteous  valley,  sheltered  from  the  cold  of  Avinter,  and 
power  of  the  summer  sun,  untroubled  also  by  the  storms  and 


LORN  A   BEGINS  HER   STORY.  129 

mists  that  veil  the  mountains ;  although  I  must  acknowledge 
that  it  is  apt  to  rain  too  often.  The  grass  moreover  is  so 
fresh,  and  tlae  brook  so  bright  and  lively,  and  flowers  of  so 
many  hues  come  after  one  another,  that  no  one  need  be  dull, 
if  only  left  alone  with  them. 

"  And  so,  in  the  early  day  perhaps,  when  morning  breathes 
around  me,  and  the  sun  is  going  upward,  and  light  is  playing 
everywhere,  I  am  not  so  far  beside  them  all,  as  to  live  in 
shadow.  But  when  the  evening  gathers  down,  and  the  sky  is 
spread  with  sadness,  and  the  day  has  spent  itself;  then  a 
cloud  of  lonely  trouble  falls,  like  night,  upon  me.  I  cannot 
see  the  things  I  quest  for  of  a  world  beyond  me;  I  cannot  join 
the  peace,  and  quiet,  of  the  depth  above  me;  neither  have  I  any 
pleasure  in  the  brightness  of  the  stars. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is  something  none  of  them  can  tell 
me  —  what  am  I,  and  why  set  here,  and  when  shall  I  be  with 
them  ?  I  see  that  you  are  surprised  a  little,  at  this  my  curi- 
osity. Perhaps  such  questions  never  spring,  in  any  whole- 
some spirit.  But  they  are  in  the  depths  of  mine,  and  I 
cannot  be  quit  of  them. 

"  Meantime,  all  around  me  is  violence  and  robbery,  coarse 
delight  and  savage  pain,  reckless  joke  and  hopeless  death.  Is 
it  any  wonder,  that  I  cannot  sink  with  these,  that  I  cannot  so 
forget  my  soul,  as  to  live  the  life  of  brutes,  and  die  the  death 
more  horrible,  ])ecause  it  dreams  of  waking  ?  There  is  none 
to  lead  me  forward,  there  is  none  to  teach  me  right;  young  as 
I  am,  I  live  beneath  a  curse  that  lasts  for  ever." 

Here  Lorna  broke  down  for  awhile,  and  cried  so  very  pite- 
ously,  that  doubting  of  my  knowledge,  and  my  right  or  power 
to  comfort,  I  did  my  best  to  hold  my  peace,  and  tried  to  look 
very  cheerful.  Then  thinking  that  might  be  bad  manners,  I 
went  to  wipe  her  eyes  for  her. 

"Master  Ridd,"  she  began  again,  "I  am  both  ashamed  and 
vexed,  at  my  own  childish  folly.  But  you,  who  have  a  mother, 
who  thinks  (you  say)  so  much  of  you,  and  sisters,  and  a  quiet 
home;  you  cannot  tell  (it  is  not  likely)  what  a  lonely  nature 
is.  How  it  leajjs  in  mirth  sometimes,  with  only  heaven  touch- 
ing it;  and  how  it  falls  away  desponding,  when  the  dreary 
weight  creeps  on. 

"It  does  not  happen  many  times,  that  I  give  way  like  this; 
more  shame  now  to  do  so,  when  I  ought  to  entertain  you. 
Sometimes  I  am  so  full  of  anger,  that  I  dare  not  trust  to 
speech,  at  tilings  they  cannot  liide  from  me;  and  perhaps  you 
would  be  much   surprised,  that  reckless  men  would  care  so 

VOL.  I.  —  9 


130  LORN  A   BOONE. 

much  to  elude  a  young  maiden's  knowledge.  They  used  to 
boast  to  Aunt  Sabina  of  pillage,  and  of  cruelty,  on  purpose  to 
enrage  her;  but  they  never  boast  to  me.  It  even  makes  me 
smile  sometimes,  to  see  how  awkwardly  they  come,  and  offer 
for  temptation  to  me  shining  packets,  half  concealed,  of  orna- 
ments, and  finery,  of  rings,  or  chains,  or  jewels,  lately  belong- 
ing to  other  people. 

"  But  when  I  try  to  search  the  past,  to  get  a  sense  of  what 
befell  me,  ere  my  own  perception  formed ;  to  feel  back  for  the 
lines  of  childhood,  as  a  trace  of  gossamer,  then  I  only  know 
that  nought  lives  longer  than  God  wills  it.  So  may  later  sin 
go  by,  for  we  are  children  always,  as  the  Counsellor  has  told 
me :  so  may  we,  beyond  the  clouds,  seek  this  infancy  of  life, 
and  never  find  its  memory. 

"  But  I  am  talking  now  of  things,  which  never  come  across 
me  when  any  work  is  toward.  It  might  have  been  a  good 
thing  for  me,  to  have  had  a  father  to  beat  these  rovings  out  of 
me ;  or  a  mother  to  make  a  home,  and  teach  me  how  to  man- 
age it.  For,  being  left  with  none,  —  I  think;  and  nothing 
ever  comes  of  it.  Nothing,  I  mean,  which  I  can  grasp,  and 
have  with  any  surety;  nothing  but  faint  images,  and  won- 
derment, and  wandering.  But  often,  when  I  am  neither 
searching  back  into  remembrance,  nor  asking  of  my  parents, 
but  occupied  by  trifles,  something  like  a  sign,  or  message,  or  a 
token  of  some  meaning,  seems  to  glance  upon  me.  Whether 
from  the  rustling  wind,  or  sound  of  distant  music,  or  the  sing- 
ing of  a  bird,  like  the  sun  on  snow,  it  strikes  me  with  a  pain 
of  pleasure. 

"  And  often  when  I  wake  at  night,  and  listen  to  the  silence, 
or  wander  far  from  people,  in  the  grayness  of  the  evening,  or 
stand  and  look  at  quiet  water  having  shadows  over  it,  some 
vague  image  seems  to  hover  on  the  skirt  of  vision,  ever  chang- 
ing place  and  outline,  ever  flitting  as  I  follow.  This  so  moves 
and  hurries  me,  in  the  eagerness  and  longing,  that  straight- 
way all  my  chance  is  lost;  and  memory,  scared  like  a  wild 
bird,  flies.  Or  am  I  as  a  child  perhaps,  chasing  a  flown 
cageling,  who  among  the  branches  free,  plays  and  peeps  at  the 
offered  cage  (as  a  home  not  to  be  urged  on  him),  and  means  to 
take  his  time  of  coming,  if  he  comes  at  all? 

"Often  too  I  wonder  at  the  odds  of  fortune,  which  made 
me  (helpless  as  I  am,  and  fond  of  peace,  and  reading)  the 
heiress  of  this  mad  domain,  this  sanctuary  of  unholiness.  It 
is  not  likely  that  I  shall  have  much  power  of  authority;  and 
yet  the  Counsellor  creeps  up,  to  be  my  Lord  of  the  Treasury ; 


LORN  A   BEGINS  HER    STORY.  131 

and  his  son  aspires  to  my  hand,  as  of  a  Eoyal  alliance.  Well, 
'honor  among  thieves,'  they  say,  and  mine  is  the  first  honor: 
although  among  decent  folk  perhaps  honesty  is  better. 

"  We  should  not  be  so  quiet  here,  and  safe  from  interrup- 
tion, but  that  I  have  begged  one  privilege,  rather  than  com- 
manded it.  This  was,  that  the  lower  end,  just  this  narrowing 
of  the  valley,  where  it  is  most  hard  to  come  at,  might  be 
looked  upon  as  mine,  except  for  purposes  of  guard.  There- 
fore none,  beside  the  sentries,  ever  trespass  on  me  here,  unless 
it  be  my  grandfather,  or  the  Counsellor,  or  Carver. 

"  By  your  face,  Master  Ridd,  I  see  that  you  have  heard  of 
Carver  Doone.  For  strength,  and  courage,  and  resource,  he 
bears  the  first  repute  among  us,  as  might  well  be  expected 
from  the  son  of  the  Counsellor.  But  he  differs  from  his  father, 
in  being  very  hot  and  savago,  and  quite  free  from  argument. 
The  Counsellor,  who  is  my  uncle,  gives  his  son  the  best  advice; 
commending  all  the  virtues,  with  eloquence  and  wisdom;  yet 
himself  abstaining  from  them,  accurately  and  impartially. 

"  You  must  be  tired  of  this  story,  and  the  time  I  take  to 
think,  and  the  weakness  of  my  telling;  but  my  life  from  day 
to  day  shows  so  little  variance.  Among  the  riders  there  is 
none  whose  safe  return  I  watch  for  —  I  mean  none  more  than 
other  —  and  indeed  there  seems  no  risk ;  all  are  now  so  feared 
of  us.  Neither  of  the  old  men  is  there,  whom  I  can  revere 
or  love  (except  alone  my  grandfather,  whom  I  love  with  trem- 
bling) ;  neither  of  the  women  any  whom  I  like  to  deal  with, 
unless  it  be  a  little  maiden,  whom  I  saved  from  starving. 

"A  little  Cornish  girl  she  is,  and  shaped  in  western  manner; 
not  so  very  much  less  in  width,  than  if  you  take  her  length- 
wise. Her  father  seems  to  have  been  a  miner,  a  Cornishman 
(as  she  declares)  of  more  than  average  excellence,  and  better 
than  any  two  men  to  be  found  in  Devonshire,  or  any  four  in 
Somerset.  Very  few  things  can  have  been  beyond  his  power 
of  performance;  and  yet  he  left  his  daughter  to  starve  upon  a 
peat-rick.  She  does  not  know  how  this  was  done,  and  looks 
upon  it  as  a  mystery,  the  meaning  of  which  will  some  day  be 
clear,  and  redound  to  her  father's  honor.  His  name  was 
Simon  Carfax,  and  he  came  as  tlie  captain  of  a  gang,  from  one 
of  the  Cornish  stannaries.  Gwenny  Carfax,  my  young  maid, 
well  rememl^ers  how  her  father  was  brought  up  from  Corn- 
wall. Her  mother  had  l)een  jjuricd,  just  a  week  or  so,  before; 
and  he  was  sad  al)out  it,  and  liad  l«'cn  off  liis  work,  and  was 
ready  for  another  job.  Tlien  people  canu!  to  liim  by  night, 
and  said  that  he  must  want  a  change,  and  every  body  lost 


132  LOBNA  BOONE. 

their  wives,  and  work  was  tlie  way  to  mend  it."  So  Avhat  with 
grief,  and  over-thought,  and  the  inside  of  a  square  bottle, 
Gwenny  says  they  brought  him  off,  to  become  a  mighty  cap- 
tain, and  choose  the  country  round.  The  last  she  saw  of  him 
was  this,  that  he  went  down  a  ladder  somewhere  on  the  wilds 
of  Exmoor,  leaving  her  with  bread  and  cheese,  and  his  travel- 
ling-hat to  see  to.  And  from  that  day  to  this,  he  never  came 
above  the  ground  again ;  so  far  as  we  can  hear  of. 

"But  Gwenny,  holding  to  his  hat,  and  having  eaten  the 
bread  and  cheese  (when  he  came  no  more  to  help  her),  dwelt 
three  days  near  the  mouth  of  the  hole ;  and  then  it  was  closed 
over,  the  while  that  she  was  sleeping.  ,  With  weakness,  and 
with  want  of  food,  she  lost  herself  distressfully,  and  went 
away,  for  miles  or  more,  and  lay  upon  a  j^eat-rick,  to  die 
before  the  ravens. 

"  That  very  day,  I  chanced  to  return  from  Aunt  Sabina's 
dying  place ;  for  she  would  not  die  in  Glen  Doone,  she  said, 
lest  the  angels  feared  to  come  for  her;  and  so  she  was  taken 
to  a  cottage  in  a  lonely  valley.  I  was  allowed  to  visit  her,  for 
even  we  durst  not  refuse  the  wishes  of  the  dying;  and  if  a 
priest  had  been  desired,  we  should  have  made  bold  with  him. 
Returning  very  sorrowful,  and  caring  now  for  nothing,  I  found 
this  little  stray  thing  lying,  with  her  arms  upon  her,  and  not 
a  sign  of  life,  except  the  way  that  she  was  biting.  Black  root- 
stuif  was  in  her  mouth,  and  a  piece  of  dirty  sheep's  wool,  and 
at  her  feet  an  old  egg-shell  of  some  bird  of  the  moorland. 

"  I  tried  to  raise  her,  but  she  was  too  square  and  heavy  for 
me;  and  so  I  put  food  in  her  mouth,  and  left  her  to  do  right 
with  it.  And  this  she  did  in  a  little  time;  for  the  victuals 
were  very  choice  and  rare,  being  what  I  had  taken  over,  to 
tempt  poor  Aunt  Sabina.  Gwenny  ate  them  without  delay, 
and  then  was  ready  to  eat  the  basket,  and  the  ware  that  had 
contained  them. 

"Gwenny  took  me  for  an  angel  —  though  I  am  little  like 
one,  as  you  see.  Master  Eidd;  and  she  followed  me,  expecting 
that  I  would  open  wings  and  fly,  when  we  came  to  any  diffi- 
culty. I  brought  her  home  with  me,  so  far  as  this  can  be  a 
home;  and  she  made  herself  my  sole  attendant,  without  so 
much  as  asking  me.  She  has  beaten  two  or  three  other  girls, 
who  used  to  wait  upon  me,  until  they  are  afraid  to  come  near 
the  house  of  my  grandfather.  She  seems  to  ha,ve  no  kind  of 
fear  even  of  our  roughest  men;  and  yet  she  looks  with  rever- 
ence and  awe,  upon  the  Counsellor.  As  for  the  wickedness, 
and  theft;  and  revelry  around  her,  she  says  it  is  no  concern 


LORN  A    BEGINS  HER    STORY.  133 

of  hers,  and  they  know  their  own  business  best.  By  this  way 
of  regarding  men,  she  has  won  upon  our  riders,  so  tliat  she  is 
almost  free  from  all  control  of  place  and  season,  and  is  allowed 
to  pass  where  none  even  of  the  youths  may  go.  Being  so  wide, 
and  short,  and  flat,  she  has  none  to  pay  her  compliments ;  and, 
were  there  any,  she  would  scorn  them,  as  not  being  Cornish- 
men.  Sometimes  she  wanders  far,  by  moonlight,  on  the 
moors,  and  up  the  rivers,  to  give  her  father  (as  she  says) 
another  chance  of  finding  her;  and  she  comes  back,  not  a  whit 
defeated,  or  discouraged,  but  confident  that  he  is  only  wait- 
ing for  the  proper  time. 

"  Herein  she  sets  me  good  example  of  a  patience  and  con- 
tentment, hard  for  me  to  imitate.  Oftentimes,  I  am  so  vexed 
by  things  I  cannot  meddle  with,  yet  cannot  keep  away  from 
me,  that  I  am  at  the  point  of  flying  from  this  dreadful  valley, 
and  risking  all  that  can  betide  me,  in  the  unknown  outer  world. 
If  it  were  not  for  my  grandfather,  I  would  have  done  so  long 
ago;  but  I  cannot  bear  that  he  should  die,  with  no  gentle 
hand  to  comfort  him ;  and  I  fear  to  think  of  the  conflict,  that 
must  ensue  for  the  government,  if  there  be  a  disputed  succession. 

"Ah  me!  We  are  to  be  pitied  greatly,  rather  than  con- 
demned, by  people  whose  things  we  have  taken  from  them ;  for 
I  have  read,  and  seem  almost  to  understand  about  it,  that  there 
are  places  on  tlie  earth  where  gentle  peace,  and  love  of  liome, 
and  knowledge  of  one's  neighbors,  prevail,  and  are,  with  reason, 
looked  for  as  the  usual  state  of  things.  There  honest  folk  may 
go  to  work,  in  the  glory  of  the  sunrise,  witli  hope  of  coming 
home  again,  quite  safe  in  the  quiet  evening,  and  finding  all 
their  children;  and  even  in  the  darkness,  they  have  no  fear  of 
lying  down,  and  dropping  off  to  slumber,  and  hearken  to  tlie 
wind  at  night,  not  as  to  an  enemy  trying  to  find  entrance,  but 
a  friend,  who  comes  to  tell  the  value  of  their  comfort. 

"  Of  all  this  golden  ease  I  hear,  but  never  saw  the  like  of  it; 
and,  haply,  I  shall  never  do  so,  being  born  to  turbulence. 
Once,  indeed,  I  had  the  offer  of  escape,  and  kinsman's  aid,  and 
high  place  in  the  gay,  bright  world;  and  yet  I  was  not  tempted 
mucli,  or,  at  least,  dared  not  to  trust  it.  And  it  ended  very 
sadly,  so  dreadfully,  that  I  even  shrink  from  telling  you  about 
it;  for  tliat  one  terror  changed  my  life,  in  a  moment,  at  a  blow, 
from  childhood,  and  from  thoughts  of  play,  and  commune  witli 
tlie  flowers  and  trees,  to  a  sense  of  death  and  darkness  and  a 
heavy  weight  of  earth,  lie  content  now,  Master  Ridd;  ask 
me  nothing  more  about  it,  so  your  sleep  be  sounder." 

But   r,  Jfjliii  Bidd,  being  young  and  rash,  and  very  fond  of 


134  LORN  A    BOONE. 

hearing  things  to  make  my  blood  to  tingle,  had  no  more  of 
manners  than  to  urge  poor  Lorna  onward;  hoping,  perhaps,  in 
depth  of  heart,  that  she  might  have  to  hold  by  me,  when  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst  of  it.     Therefore  she  went  on  again. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LORNA   ENDS    HER   STORY. 

"  It  is  scarce  a  twelvemonth  yet,  although  it  seems  ten  years 
agone,  since  I  blew  the  downy  globe,  to  learn  the  time  of  day, 
or  set  beneath  my  chin  the  veinings  of  the  varnished  buttercup, 
or  fired  the  foxglove  cannonade,  or  made  a  captive  of  myself 
with  dandelion  fetters ;  for  then  I  had  not  very  much  to  trouble 
me  in  earnest,  but  went  about,  romancing  gravely,  playing  at 
bo-peep  with  fear,  making  for  myself  strong  hej-oes,  of  gray 
rock  or  fir-tree,  adding  to  my  own  importance,  as  the  children 
love  to  do. 

"  As  yet  I  had  not  truly  learned  the  evil  of  our  living,  the 
scorn  of  law,  the  outrage,  and  the  sorrow  caused  to  others.  It 
even  was  a  point  with  all,  to  hide  the  roughness  from  me,  to 
show  me  but  the  gallant  side,  and  keep  in  shade  the  other. 
My  grandfather.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  had  given  strictest  order, 
as  I  discovered  afterwards,  that  in  my  presence  all  should  be 
well-mannered,  kind,  and  vigilant.  Nor  was  it  very  difficult 
to  keep  most  part  of  the  mischief  from  me;  for  no  Doone  ever 
robs  at  home,  neither  do  they  quarrel  much,  except  at  times  of 
gambling.  And  though  Sir  Ensor  Doone  is  now  so  old,  and 
growing  feeble,  his  own  way  he  will  have  still,  and  no  one  dare 
deny  him.  Even  our  fiercest  and  most  mighty  swordsmen, 
seared  from  all  sense  of  right  or  wrong,  yet  have  plentiful 
sense  of  fear,  when  brought  before  that  white-haired  man. 
Not  that  he  is  rough  with  them,  or  querulous,  or  rebukeful ; 
but  that  he  has  a  strange  soft  smile,  and  a  gaze  they  cannot 
answer,  and  a  knowledge  deeper  far  than  they  have  of  them- 
selves. Under  his  protection,  I  am  as  safe  from  all  those 
men  (some  of  whom  are  not  akin  to  me)  as  if  I  slept  beneath 
the  roof  of  the  King's  Lord  Justitiary. 

"  But  now,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  one  evening  of  last  sum- 
mer, a  horrible  thing  befell,  which  took  all  play  of  childhood 
from  me.  The  fifteenth  day  of  last  July  was  very  hot  and 
sultry,  long  after  the  time  of  sundown;  and  I  was  paying  heed 


■is     OUK     ADMIfMTION     MUfU /\L  ?  "  —  Vol      I      p.     156 


LOENA   ENDS  HER   STORY.  135 

to  it,  because  of  the  old  saying  that  if  it  rained  then,  rain  will 
fall  on  forty  days  thereafter.  I  had  been  long  by  the  water- 
side, at  this  lower  end  of  the  valley,  plaiting  a  little  crown  of 
woodbine  crocketed  with  sprigs  of  heath, —  to  please  my  grand- 
father, who  likes  to  see  me  gay  at  supper-time.  Being  proud 
of  my  tiara,  whicli  had  cost  some  trouble,  I  set  it  on  my  head 
at  once,  to  save  the  chance  of  crushing,  and  carrying  my  gray 
hat,  ventured  by  a  path  not  often  trod.  Eor  I  naist  be  home 
at  the  supper-time,  or  grandfather  would  be  exceeding  wroth ; 
and  the  worst  of  his  anger  is,  that  he  never  condescends  to 
show  it. 

"  Therefore  instead  of  the  open  mead,  or  the  windings  of  the 
river,  I  made  sliort  cut  through  the  ash-trees  covert,  which  lies 
in  the  middle  of  our  vale,  with  the  water  skirting,  or  cleaving 
it.  You  have  never  been  up  so  far  as  that  —  at  least  to  the 
best  of  my  knowledge  —  but  you  see  it,  like  a  long  gray  spot, 
from  tlie  top  of  the  cliffs  above  us.  Here  I  was  not  likely  to 
meet  any  of  our  people ;  because  the  young  ones  are  afraid  of 
some  ancient  tale  about  it,  and  the  old  ones  have  no  love  of 
trees,  where  gunshots  are  uncertain. 

"It  was  more  almost  than  dusk,  down  below  the  tree-leaves; 
and  I  was  eager  to  go  through,  and  be  again  beyond  it.  For 
the  gray  dark  hung  around  me,  scarcely  showing  shadow;  and 
the  little  light  that  glimmered  seemed  to  come  up  from  the 
ground.  For  the  earth  was  strown  with  the  winter-s])read,  and 
coil,  of  last  year's  foliage,  the  lichened  claws  of  chalky  twigs, 
and  the  numlierless  decay  which  gives  a  light  in  its  decaying. 
I,  for  my  part,  hastened  shyly,  ready  to  draw  back,  and  run, 
from  hare,  or  rabbit,  or  small  field-mouse. 

"  At  a  sudden  turn  of  the  narrow  path,  where  it  stooped  again 
to  the  river,  a  man  leaped  out  from  behind  a  tree,  and  stopped 
me,  and  seized  hold  of  me.  I  tried  to  shriek,  but  my  voice 
was  still ;  and  I  could  only  hear  my  heart. 

"'JSTow,  Cousin  Lorna,  my  good  cousin,'  he  said,  with  ease, 
and  calmness;  'your  voice  is  very  sweet,  no  doubt,  from  all 
that  I  can  see  of  you.  15ut  I  pray  you  keep  it  still,  unless 
you  would  give  to  dusty  death  your  very  best  cousin,  and  trusty 
guardian,  Alan  Pirandir  of  Loch  Awe.' 

"  'You  my  guardian! '  I  said,  for  the  idea  was  too  ludicrous; 
and  ludicrous  things  always  strike  me  first,  through  some  fault 
of  nature. 

"'I  have  in  truth  that  lionor,  madam,'  he  answered  with  a 
sweeping  bow;  'mdess  I  err  in  taking  you  for  Mistress  Lorna 
Doone.' 


136  LOENA   DOONE. 

"'You  have  uot  mistaken  me.     My  name  is  Lorna  Doone.' 

"  He  looked  at  me  with  gravity,  and  was  inclined  to  make 
some  claim  to  closer  consideration,  iipon  the  score  of  kinship; 
but  I  shrank  back,  and  only  said,  'Yes,  my  name  is  Lorna 
Doone.' 

"'Then  I  am  your  faithful  guardian,  Alan  Brandir  of  Loch 
Awe;  called  Lord  Alaa  Brandir,  son  of  a  worthy  peer  of  Scot- 
land.    Now  will  you  confide  in  me? ' 

"  'I  confide  in  you !  '  I  cried,  looking  at  him  with  amazement; 
'why  you  are  not  older  than  I  am! ' 

" '  Yes  I  am,  three  years  at  least.  You,  my  ward,  are  not 
sixteen.  I,  your  worshipful  guardian,  am  almost  nineteen 
years  of  age !  ' 

"  Upon  hearing  this  I  looked  at  him,  for  that  seemed  then  a 
venerable  age;  but  the  more  I  looked,  the  more  I  doubted, 
although  he  was  dressed  quite  like  a  man.  He  led  me,  in  a 
courtly  manner,  stepping  at  his  tallest,  to  an  open  place  beside 
the  water;  where  the  light  came  as  in  channel,  and  was  made 
the  most  of  by  glancing  waves,  and  fair  white  stones. 

'"Now  am  I  to  your  liking,  cousin?  '  he  asked,  when  I  had 
gazed  at  him,  until  I  was  almost  ashamed,  except  at  such  a 
stripling.  'Does  my  Cousin  Lorna  judge  kindly  of  her  guar- 
dian, and  her  nearest  kinsman?  In  a  word,  is  our  admiration 
mutual? ' 

"'Truly  I  know  not, '  I  said;  'but  you  seem  good-natured, 
and  to  have  no  harm  in  you.     Do  they  trust  you  with  a  sword? 

"  For  in  my  usage  among  men  of  stature,  and  strong  pres- 
ence, this  pretty  youth,  so  tricked  and  slender,  seemed  nothing 
but  a  doll  to  me.  Although  he  scared  me  in  the  wood,  now 
that  I  saw  him  in  good  twilight,  lo!  he  was  but  little  greater 
than  my  little  self;  and  so  tasselled,  and  so  ruffled  with  a  mint 
of  bravery,  and  a  green  coat  barred  with  red,  and  a  slim  sword 
hanging  under  him,  it  was  the  utmost  I  could  do,  to  look  at 
him  half-gravely. 

"'I  fear  that  my  presence  hath  scarce  enough  of  ferocity 
about  it, '  he  gave  a  jerk  to  his  sword  as  he  spoke,  and  clanked 
it  on  the  brook-stones;  'yet  do  I  assure  you,  cousin,  that  I  am 
not  Avithout  some  prowess ;  and  many  a  master  of  defence  hath 
this  good  sword  of  mine  disarmed.  Now  if  the  boldest,  and 
biggest  robber  in  all  this  charming  valley,  durst  so  much  as 
breathe  the  scent  of  that  flower  coronal,  which  doth  not  adorn 
but  is  adorned' — here  he  talked  some  nonsense  —  'I  would 
cleave  him,  from  head  to  foot,  ere  ever  he  could  fly  or  cry. ' 

"'Hush! '  I  said;  'talk  not  so  loudly,  or  thou  mayGSt  have 
to  do  both,  thyself;  and  do  them  both  in  vain.' 


LOBNA   ENDS  HER   STORY.  137 

"  For  he  was  quite  forgetting  now,  in  his  bravery  before  me, 
where  he  stood,  and  with  whom  he  spoke,  and  how  the  summer 
lightning  shone,  above  the  hills,  and  down  the  hollow.  And 
as  I  gazed  on  this  slight  fair  youth,  clearly  one  of  high  birth 
and  breeding  (albeit  over-boastful),  a  chill  of  fear  crept  over 
me ;  because  he  had  no  strength  or  substance,  and  would  be  no 
more  than  a  pin-cushion,  before  the  great  swords  of  the  Doones. 

" 'I  pray  you  be  not  vexed  with  me,'  he  answered  in  a  softer 
voice;  'for  I  have  travelled  far  and  sorely,  for  the  sake  of  see- 
ing you.  I  know  right  well  among  whom  I  am,  and  that  their 
hospitality  is  more  of  the  knife  than  the  salt-stand.  Never- 
theless I  am  safe  enough,  for  my  foot  is  the  fleetest  in  Scot- 
land; and  what  are  such  hills  as  these  to  me?  Tush!  I  have 
seen  some  border  forays,  among  wilder  spirits,  and  craftier 
men  than  these  be.  Once  1  mind  some  years  agone,  when  I 
was  quite  a  stripling  lad,' 

'"AVorsliipful  guardian, '  I  said,  'there  is  no  time  now  for 
history.  If  thou  art  in  no  liaste,  I  am,  and  cannot  stay  here 
idling.  Only  tell  me,  how  I  am  akin  and  under  wardship  to 
thee,  and  what  purpose  brings  thee  here.' 

"  '  In  order,  cousin  —  all  things  in  order,  even  with  fair  ladies. 
First,  I  am  thy  uncle's  son,  my  father  is  thy  mother's  brother, 
or  at  least  thy  grandmother's, —  unless  I  am  deceived  in  tliat 
wliich  I  have  guessed,  and  no  other  man.  For  my  father,  being 
a  leading  lord  in  the  councils  of  King  Charles  the  Second, 
appointed  me  to  learn  tlie  law;  not  for  my  livelihood,  thank 
God,  but  because  he  felt  the  lack  of  it  in  affairs  of  state.  But 
first,  your  leave,  young  Mistress  Lorna;  I  cannot  lay  down 
legal  maxims,  without  aid  of  smoke.' 

"  He  leaned  against  a  willow-tree,  and  drawing  from  a  gilded 
box  a  little  dark  thing  like  a  stick,  placed  it  between  his  lips, 
and  then  striking  a  flint  on  steel,  made  fire,  and  caught  it  upon 
touchwood.  With  this  he  kindled  the  tip  of  the  stick,  until  it 
glowed  with  a  ring  of  red,  and  then  he  breathed  forth  curls  of 
smoke,  blue,  and  smelling  on  the  air,  like  spice.  I  had  never 
seen  this  done  before,  tho\igh  acquainted  with  tobacco-pipes; 
and  it  made  me  laugh,  until  I  tliouglit  of  the  peril  that  must 
follow  it. 

"'Cousin,  have  no  fear,'  he  said;  'tliis  makes  nu^  all  the 
safer:  tliey  will  take  i\w.  for  a  glow-wonii,  and  tliiH!  for  the 
flower  it  shines  u[)Oii.  J>ut  to  return  —  of  law  i  learned,  as  you 
may  suppose,  but  little;  although  I  have  capacities.  But  the 
thing  was  far  too  dull  for  me.  All  I  care  for  is  adventure, 
moving   chance,  and  hot  encounter;    therefore  all  of   law  I 


138  LORNA   BOONE. 

learned,  was  liow  to  live  without  it.  Nevertheless,  for  amuse- 
ment's sake,  as  I  must  needs  be  at  my  desk  an  hour  or  so  in 
the  afternoon,  I  took  to  the  sporting  branch  of  the  law,  the 
pitfalls,  and  the  ambuscades ;  and  of  all  the  traps  to  be  laid 
therein,  pedigrees  are  the  rarest.  There  is  scarce  a  man  worth 
a  cross  of  butter,  but  what  you  may  find  a  hole  in  his  shield, 
within  four  generations.  And  so  I  struck  our  own  escutcheon, 
and  it  sounded  hollow.  There  is  a  point  —  but  heed  not  that; 
enough  that  being  curious  now,  I  followed  up  the  quarry,  and  I 
am  come  to  this  at  last  —  we,  even  we,  the  lords  of  Loch  Awe, 
have  an  outlaw  for  our  cousin ;  and  I  would  we  had  more,  if  they 
be  like  you.' 

"'Sir,'  I  answered,  being  amused  by  his  manner,  which  was 
new  to  me  (for  the  Doones  are  much  in  earnest),  'surely  you 
count  it  no  disgrace,  to  be  of  kin  to  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  all 
his  honest  family ! ' 

"  'If  it  be  so,  it  is  in  truth  the  very  highest  honor,  and  would 
heal  ten  holes  in  our  escutcheon.  What  noble  family,  but 
springs  from  a  captain  among  robbers?  Trade  alone  can  spoil 
our  blood;  robbery  purifies  it.  The  robbery  of  one  age  is  the 
chivalry  of  the  next.  We  may  start  anew,  and  vie  with  even 
the  nobility  of  France,  if  we  can  once  enrol  but  half  the  Doones 
upon  our  lineage.' 

"'I  like  not  to  hear  you  speak  of  the  Doones,  as  if  they  were 
no  more  than  that, '  I  exclaimed,  being  now  unreasonable;  'but 
will  you  tell  me,  once  for  all,  sir,  how  you  are  my  guardian? ' 
" '  That  I  will  do.  You  are  my  ward,  because  you  were  my 
father's  ward,  under  the  Scottish  law;  and  now  my  father 
being  so  deaf,  I  have  succeeded  to  that  right  —  at  least  in  my 
own  opinion  —  under  which  claim  I  am  here,  to  neglect  my 
trust  no  longer,  but  to  lead  you  away  from  scenes  and  deeds, 
which  (though  of  good  repute  and  comely)  are  not  the  best  for 
young  gentlewomen.  There,  spoke  I  not  like  a  guardian? 
After  that  can  you  mistrust  me?  ' 

"'But,'  said  I,  'good  cousin  Alan  (if  I  may  so  call  you),  it 
is  not  meet  for  young  gentlewomen,  to  go  away  with  young 
gentlemen,  though  fifty  times  their  guardians.  But  if  you 
will  only  come  with  me,  and  explain  your  tale  to  my  grand- 
father, he  will  listen  to  you  quietly,  and  take  no  advantage  of 
you.' 

"'I  thank  you  much,  kind  Mistress  Lorna,  to  lead  the  goose 
into  the  fox's  den!  But,  setting  by  all  thought  of  danger,  I 
have  other  reasons  against  it.  Now,  come  with  your  faithful 
guardian,  child.     I  will  pledge  my  honor  against  all  harm, 


LOENA   ENDS  HER    STOEY.  139 

aud  to  bear  you  safe  to  London.  By  the  law  of  the  realm,  I 
am  now  entitled  to  the  custody  of  your  fair  person,  and  of  all 
your  chattels.' 

"'But,  sir,  all  that  you  have  learned  of  law,  is  how  to  live 
without  it.' 

" '  Fairly  met,  fair  cousin  mine !  Your  wit  will  do  me  credit, 
after  a  little  sharpening.  And  there  is  none  to  do  that  better 
than  your  aunt,  my  mother.  Although  she  knows  not  of  my 
coming,  she  is  longing  to  receive  you.  Come;  and  in  a  few 
months'  time,  you  shall  set  the  mode  at  Court,  instead  of  pin- 
ing here,  and  weaving  coronals  of  daisies.' 

"  I  turned  aside,  and  thought  a  little.  Although  he  seemed 
so  light  of  mind,  and  gay  in  dress  and  manner,  I  could  not 
doubt  his  honesty;  and  saw,  beneath  his  jaunty  air,  true  mettle, 
and  ripe  bravery.  Scarce  had  I  thought  of  his  project  twice, 
until  he  spoke  of  my  aunt,  his  mother;  but  then  the  form  of 
my  dearest  friend,  my  sweet  aunt  Sabina,  seemed  to  come,  and 
bid  me  listen;  for  this  was  what  she  had  prayed  for.  More- 
over I  felt  (though  not  as  now)  that  Doone  Glen  was  no  place 
for  me,  or  any  proud  young  maiden.  But  while  I  thought,  the 
yellow  lightning  spread  behind  a  bulk  of  clouds,  three  times 
ere  the  flash  was  done,  far  off,  and  void  of  thunder;  and  from 
the  pile  of  cloud  before  it,  cut  as  from  black  paper,  and  lit  to 
depths  of  blackness  by  the  blaze  behind  it,  a  form  as  of  an  aged 
man,  sitting  in  a  chair,  loose-mantled,  seemed  to  lift  a  hand, 
and  warn. 

"  This  minded  me  of  my  grandfather,  and  all  the  care  I  owed 
him.  Moreover,  now  the  storm  was  rising,  and  I  began  to 
grow  afraid;  for  of  all  things  awful  to  me,  thunder  is  the 
dreadfulest.  It  doth  so  growl,  like  a  lion  coming;  and  then 
so  roll,  and  roar,  and  rumble,  out  of  a  thickening  darkness; 
then  crack  like  the  last  trump  overhead,  through  cloven  air 
and  terror;  that  all  my  heart  lies  low  and  quivers,  like  a  weed 
in  Avater.  I  listened  now  for  the  distant  rolling  of  the  great 
black  storm,  and  heard  it,  and  was  hurried  by  it.  But  the 
youth  before  me  waved  his  rolled  tobacco  at  it,  and  drawled  in 
his  daintiest  tone  and  manner, — 

" '  Tlie  sky  is  having  a  smoke,  I  see,  and  dropping  sparks, 
and  grumVjling.  I  should  have  thought  these  Exmoor  hills 
too  small  to  gather  thunder.' 

*'  'I  cannot  go,  I  will  not  go  with  you.  Lord  Alan  Brandir,' 
I  answered,  being  vexed  a  little  by  those  words  of  his.  'You 
are  not  grave  enough  for  me,  you  are  not  old  enough  for  me. 
My  Aunt  Sabina  would  not  have  wished  it;  nor  would  I  leave 


140  LORNA   BOONE. 

my  grandfather,  without  his  full  permission.  I  thank  you 
much  for  coming,  sir;  but  be  gone  at  once  by  the  way  you 
came;  and  pray  how  did  you  come,  sir?  ' 

'"Fair  cousin,  you  will  grieve  for  this;  you  will  mourn, 
when  you  cannot  mend  it.  I  would  my  mother  had  been  here ; 
soon  would  she  have  persuaded  you.  And  yet, '  he  added,  with 
the  smile  of  his  accustomed  gaiety,  'it  would  have  been  an  unco 
thing,  as  we  say  in  Scotland,  for  her  ladyship  to  have  waited 
upon  you,  as  her  graceless  son  has  done,  and  hopes  to  do  agaiii 
ere  long.  Down  the  cliffs  I  came ;  and  up  them  I  must  make 
way  back  again.  Now  adieu,  fair  cousin  Lorna,  I  see  you  are 
in  haste  to-night;  but  I  am  right  proud  of  my  guardianship. 
Give  me  just  one  flower  for  token  '  — here  he  kissed  his  hand 
to  me,  and  I  threw  him  a  truss  of  woodbine  —  'adieu,  fair 
cousin,  trust  me  well,  I  will  soon  be  here  again.' 

"'That  thou  never  shalt,  sir,'  cried  a  voice  as  loud  as  a 
culverin;  and  Carver  Doone  had  Alan  Brandir,  as  a  spider 
hath  a  fly.  The  boy  made  a  little  shriek  at  first,  with  the  sud- 
den shock  and  the  terror ;  then  he  looked,  methought,  ashamed 
of  himself,  and  set  his  face  to  fight  for  it.  Very  bravely  he 
strove,  and  struggled,  to  free  one  arm,  and  to  grasp  his  sword ; 
but  as  well  might  an  infant  buried  alive  attempt  to  lift  his 
gravestone.  Carver  Doone,  with  his  great  arms  wrapped 
around  the  slim  gay  body,  smiled  (as  I  saw  by  the  flash  from 
heaven)  at  the  poor  young  face  turned  up  to  him;  then  (as  a 
nurse  bears  oft"  a  child,  who  is  loth  to  go  to  bed)  he  lifted  the 
youth  from  his  feet,  and  bore  him  away  into  the  darkness. 

"  I  was  young  then.  I  am  older  now :  older  by  ten  years, 
in  thought,  although  it  is  not  a  twelvemonth  since.  If  that 
black  deed  were  done  again,  I  could  follow,  and  could  combat 
it,  could  throw  weak  arms  on  the  murderer,  and  strive  to  be 
murdered  also.  I  am  now  at  home  with  violence;  and  no  dark 
death  surprises  me. 

"But,  being  as  I  was  that  night,  the  horror  overcame  me. 
The  crash  of  thunder  overhead,  the  last  despairing  look,  the 
death-piece  framed  with  blaze  of  lightning — my  young  heart 
Avas  so  affrighted,  that  I  could  not  gasp.  My  breath  went  from 
me,  and  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  or  who,  or  what.  Only  that 
I  lay,  and  cowered,  under  great  trees  full  of  thunder ;  and  could 
neither  count,  nor  moan,  nor  have  my  feet  to  help  me. 

"  Yet  hearkening,  as  a  coward  does,  through  the  wailing  of 
the  wind,  and  echo  of  far  noises,  I  heard  a  sharp  sound  as  of 
iron,  and  a  fall  of  heavy  wood.  No  unmanly  shriek  came  with 
it,  neither  cry  for  mercy.  Carver  Doone  knows  what  it  was; 
and  so  did  Alan  Brandir." 


A   LONG   SPEING   MONTH.  141 

Here  Lorna  Doone  could  tell  no  more,  being  overcome  witli 
weeping.  Only  through  her  tears  she  "whispered,  as  a  thing 
too  bad  to  tell,  that  she  had  seen  that  giant  Carver,  in  a  few 
days  afterwards,  smoking  a  little  round  brown  stick,  like  those 
of  her  poor  cousin.  1  could  not  press  her  any  more  with  ques- 
tions, or  for  clearness ;  although  I  longed  very  mucli  to  know, 
whether  she  had  spoken  of  it,  to  her  grandfather,  or  the  Coun- 
sellor. But  she  was  now  in  such  condition,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  from  the  force  of  her  own  fear  multiplied  by  telling  it, 
that  I  did  nothing  more  than  coax  her,  at  a  distance  humbly ; 
and  so  that  she  could  see  that  some  one  was  at  least  afraid  of 
her.  This  (although  I  knew  not  women  in  those  days,  as  now 
I  do,  and  never  shall  know  much  of  it),  this,  I  say,  so  brought 
her  round,  that  all  her  fear  was  now  for  me,  and  how  to  get  me 
safely  off,  without  mischance  to  any  one.  And  sooth  to  say, 
in  spite  of  longing  just  to  see  if  Master  Carver  could  have 
served  me  such  a  trick  —  as  it  grew  towards  the  dusk,  I  was  not 
best  pleased  to  be  there;  for  it  seemed  a  lawless  place,  and 
some  of  Lorna's  fright  stayed  with  me,  as  I  talked  it  away 
from  her. 


CHAPTEE,  XXII. 

A    LOXG    SPRING    MONTH. 

After  hearing  that  tale  from  Lorna,  I  went  home  in  sorry 
spirits,  having  added  fear  for  her,  and  misery  about  her,  to  all 
my  other  ailments.  And  was  it  not  quite  certain  now,  that 
she  being  owned  full  cousin  to  a  peer  and  lord  of  Scotland 
(although  he  was  a  dead  one),  must  have  naught  to  do  with 
me,  a  yeoman's  son,  and  bound  to  be  the  father  of  more  yeo- 
men? I  had  been  sorry,  when  first  I  heard  about  that  poor 
young  popinjay,  and  would  gladly  have  fought  hard  for  him: 
but  now  it  struck  me  that  alter  all  he  had  no  right  to  be  there, 
prowling  (as  it  were)  for  Lorna,  without  any  invitation :  and 
we  farmers  love  not  trespass.  Still,  if  I  had  seen  the  thing, 
I  must  have  tried  to  save  him. 

Moreover,  I  was  greatly  vexed  with  my  own  hesitation, 
stupidity,  or  shyness,  or  whatever  else  it  was,  which  had  held 
me  back  from  saying,  ere  she  told  her  story,  what  was  in  my 
heart  to  say,  videlicet,  that  I  must  die  unless  she  let  me  love 
her.     Not  that  I  was  fool  enough   to  think  that  she  would 


142  LORN  A  BOONE. 

answer  Bie  according  to  my  liking,  or  begin  to  care  about  me 
for  a  long  time  yet;  if  indeed  she  ever  sliould,  which  I  hardly 
dared  to  hope.  But  that  I  had  heard  from  men  more  skilful 
in  the  matter,  that  it  is  wise  to  be  in  time,  that  so  the  maids 
may  begin  to  think,  when  they  know  that  they  are  thought  of. 
And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  bitter  fears,  on  account  of  her 
wondrous  beauty,  lest  some  young  fellow  of  higher  birth,  and 
liner  parts,  and  fiiiish,  might  steal  in  before  poor  me,  and  cut 
me  out  altogether.  Thinking  of  which,  I  used  to  double  my 
great  fist,  without  knowing  it,  and  keep  it  in  my  pocket  ready. 

But  the  worst  of  all  was  this,  that  in  my  great  dismay  and 
a,nguish  to  see  Lorna  weeping  so,  I  had  promised  not  to  cause 
her  any  further  trouble  from  anxiety  and  fear  of  harm.  And 
this,  being  brought  to  practice,  meant  that  I  was  not  to  show 
myself  within  the  precincts  of  Glen  Doone,  for  at  least  another 
month.  Unless  indeed  (as  I  contrived  to  edge  into  the  agree- 
ment) anything  should  happen  to  increase  her  present  trouble 
and  every  day's  uneasiness.  In  that  case,  she  was  to  throw  a 
dark  mantle,  or  covering  of  some  sort,  over  a  large  white  stone, 
which  hung  within  the  entrance  to  her  retreat  —  I  mean  the 
outer  entrance  —  and  which,  though  unseen  from  the  valley 
itself,  was  (as  I  had  observed)  conspicuous  from  the  height 
where  I  stood  with  Uncle  Reuben. 

Now  coming  home  so  sad  and  weary,  yet  trying  to  console 
myself  with  the  thought  that  love  o'erleapeth  rank,  and  must 
still  be  lord  of  all,  I  found  a  shameful  thing  going  on,  which 
made  me  very  angry.  For  it  needs  must  happen  that  young 
Marwood  de  Whichehalse,  only  son  of  the  Baron,  riding  home 
that  very  evening,  from  chasing  of  the  Exmoor  bustards,  with 
his  hounds  and  serving-men,  should  take  the  short  cut  through 
our  farm-yard,  and  being  dry  from  his  exercise,  should  come 
and  ask  for  drink.  And  it  needs  must  happen  also  that  there 
should  be  none  to  give  it  to  him  but  my  sister  Annie.  I  more 
than  suspect  that  he  had  heard  some  report  of  our  Annie's 
comeliness,  and  had  a  mind  to  satisfy  himself  upon  the  sub- 
ject. Kow,  as  he  took  the  large  ox-horn  of  our  quarantine- 
apple  cider  (which  we  always  keep  apart  from  the  rest,  being 
too  good  except  for  the  quality),  he  let  his  fingers  dwell  on 
Annie's,  by  some  sort  of  accident,  while  he  lifted  his  beaver 
gallantly,  and  gazed  on  her  face  in  the  light  from  the  west. 
Then  what  did  Annie  do  (as  she  herself  told  me  afterwards) 
but  inake  her  very  best  covirtesy  to  him,  being  pleased  that  he 
was  pleased  with  her,  while  she  thought  what  a  fine  young 
man  he  was,  and  so  much  breeding  about  him !     And  in  truth 


A   LONG    SPBING   MONTH.  143 

he  was  a  dark,  handsome  fellow,  hasty,  reckless,  and  change- 
able, with  a  look  of  sad  destiny  in  his  black  eyes  that  would 
make  any  woman  pity  him.  What  he  was  thinking  of  our 
Annie  is  not  for  me  to  say;  although  I  may  think  that  j-ou 
could  not  have  found  another  such  maiden  on  Exmoor,  except 
(of  course)  my  Lorna. 

Though  young  Squire  Marwood  was  so  thirsty,  he  spent 
much  time  over  his  cider,  or  at  any  rate  over  the  ox-horn,  and 
he  made  many  bows  to  Annie,  and  drank  health  to  all  the 
family,  and  spoke  of  me  as  if  I  had  been  his  very  best  friend 
at  Blundell's;  whereas  he  knew  well  enough,  all  the  time,  that 
we  had  naught  to  say  to  one  another;  he  being  three  years 
older,  and  therefore  loftily  disdaining  me.  But  while  he  was 
casting  about  perhaps  for  some  excuse  to  stop  longer,  and  Annie 
was  beginning  to  fear  lest  mother  should  come  after  her,  or 
Eliza  be  at  the  window,  or  Betty  up  in  pigs'  house,  suddenly 
there  came  up  to  them,  as  if  from  the  very  heart  of  the  earth, 
that  long,  low,  hollow,  mysterious  sound,  which  I  spoke  of  in 
the  winter. 

The  young  man  started  in  his  saddle,  let  the  horn  fall  on 
the  horse-steps,  and  gazed  all  around  in  wonder;  while  as 
for  Annie,  she  turned  like  a  ghost,  and  tried  to  slam  the  door, 
but  failed  through  the  violence  of  her  trembling;  for  never  till 
now  had  any  one  heard  it  so  close  at  hand  (as  you  might  say), 
or  in  the  mere  fall  of  the  twilight.  And  by  this  time  there 
was  no  man,  at  least  in  our  parish,  but  knew  —  for  the  Parson 
himself  had  told  us  so  —  that  it  was  the  devil  groaning,  because 
the  Doones  were  too  many  for  him. 

Marwood  de  Whichehalse  was  not  so  alarmed  but  what  he 
saw  a  fine  opportunity.  He  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  laid 
hold  of  dear  Annie  in  a  highly  comforting  manner ;  and  she 
never  would  tell  us  about  it  (being  so  shy  and  modest),  whether 
in  breathing  his  comfort  to  her,  he  tried  to  take  some  from  her 
pure  lips.  I  hope  he  did  not,  because  that  to  me  would  seem 
not  the  deed  of  a  gentleman,  and  he  was  of  good  old  family. 

At  this  very  moment,  who  should  come  in  to  the  end  of  the 
passage  upon  them,  but  the  heavy  writer  of  these  doings,  I, 
John  Ridd  myself,  and  walking  the  faster,  it  may  be,  on  account 
of  the  noise  I  mentioned?  I  entered  the  house  with  some  wrath 
upon  me  at  seeing  the  gazehounds  in  the  yard;  for  it  seems  a 
cruel  thing  to  me  to  harass  the  birds  in  the  breeding-time. 
And  to  my  amazi'ment  there  I  saw  Squire  Marwood  among 
the  milk-pans,  witlj  liis  arm  around  our  Annie's  waist,  and 
Annie  all  blushing  and  coaxing  him  off,  for  she  was  not  come 
to  scold  yet. 


144  LORNA   BOONE. 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong;  God  knows,  and  if  I  was,  no  doubt  I 
shall  pay  for  it;  but  I  gave  him  the  flat  of  my  hand  on  his  head, 
and  down  he  went  in  the  thick  of  the  milk-pans.  He  would 
have  had  my  fist,  I  doubt,  but  for  having  been  at  school  with 
me;  and  after  that,  it  is  like  enough  he  would  never  have 
spoken  another  word.  As  it  was,  he  lay  stunned,  with  the 
cream  running  on  him;  while  I  took  poor  Annie  up,  and  car- 
ried her  in  to  mother,  who  had  heard  the  noise,  and  was  fright- 
ened. 

Concerning  this  matter  I  asked  no  more,  but  held  myself 
ready  to  bear  it  out  in  any  form  convenient,  feeling  that  I  had 
done  my  duty,  and  cared  not  for  the  consequence;  only  for 
several  days  dear  Annie  seemed  frightened,  rather  than  grate- 
ful. But  the  oddest  result  of  it  was  that  Eliza,  who  had  so 
despised  me,  and  made  very  rude  verses  about  me,  now  came 
trying  to  sit  on  my  knee,  and  kiss  me,  and  give  me  the  best  of 
the  pan.  However,  I  would  not  allow  it,  because  I  hate  sud- 
den changes. 

Another  thing  also  astonished  me  —  namely,  a  beautiful 
letter  from  Marwood  de  Whichehalse  himself  (sent  by  a  groom 
soon  afterwards),  in  which  he  apologized  to  me,  as  if  I  had 
been  his  equal,  for  his  rudeness  to  my  sister,  which  was  not 
intended  in  the  least,  but  came  of  their  common  alarm  at  the 
moment,  and  his  desire  to  comfort  her.  Also  he  begged  per- 
mission to  come  and  see  me,  as  an  old  schoolfellow,  and  set 
everything  straight  between  us,  as  should  be  among  honest 
Blundellites. 

All  this  was  so  different  to  my  idea  of  fighting  out  a  quar- 
rel, when  once  it  is  upon  a  man,  that  I  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  it,  but  bowed  to  higher  breeding.  Only  one  thing  I  resolved 
upon,  that  come  when  he  would,  he  should  not  see  Annie. 
And  to  do  my  sister  justice,  she  had  no  desire  to  see  him. 

However,  I  am  too  easy,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  being 
very  quick  to  forgive  a  man,  and  very  slow  to  suspect,  unless 
he  hath  once  lied  to  me.  Moreover,  as  to  Annie,  it  had 
always  seemed  to  me  (much  against  my  wishes)  that  some 
shrewd  love  of  a  waiting  sort  was  between  her  and  Tom 
Faggus:  and  though  Tom  had  made  his  fortune  now,  and 
every  body  respected  him,  he  was  not  yet  to  be  compared,  in 
that  point  of  respectability,  with  those  people  who  hanged 
the  robbers,  when  fortune  turned  against  them. 

So  young  Squire  Marwood  came  again,  as  though  I  had 
never  smitten  him,  and  spoke  of  it  in  as  light  a  way,  as  if  we 
were  still  at  school  together.     It  was  not  in  my  nature,  at  all, 


A   LONG   SPBING  MONTH.  145 

to  keep  any  anger  against  him;  and  I  knew  what  a  condescen- 
sion it  was  for  him  to  visit  us.  And  it  is  a  very  grievous 
thing,  which  touches  small  land-owners,  to  see  an  ancient 
family  day  by  day  decaying:  and  when  we  heard  that  Ley 
Barton  itself,  and  all  the  Manor  of  Lynton,  were  under  a 
heavy  mortgage  debt  to  John  Lovering  of  Weare-Gifford,  there 
was  not  much,  in  our  little  way,  that  we  would  not  gladly  do 
or  suffer,  for  the  benefit  of  De  AVhichehalse. 

Meanwhile  the  work  of  the  farm  was  toward,  and  every  day 
gave  us  more  ado  to  dispose  of  what  itself  was  doing.  For 
after  the  long  dry  skeltering  wind  of  March  and  part  of  April, 
there  had  been  a' fortnight  of  soft  wet;  and  when  the  sun  came 
forth  again,  hill  and  valley,  wood  and  meadow,  could  not 
make  enough  of  him.  ]\Iany  a  spring  have  I  seen  since  then, 
but  never  yet  two  springs  alike,  and  never  one  so  beautiful. 
Or  was  it  that  my  love  came  forth  and  touched  the  world  with 
beauty? 

The  spring  was  in  our  valley  now ;  creeping  first  for  shelter 
shyly  in  thepause  of  the  blustering  wind.  There  the  lambs 
came  bleating  to  her,  and  the  orchis  lifted  up,  and  the  thin 
dead  leaves  of  clover  lay,  for  the  new  ones  to  spring  through. 
Then  the  stiffest  things  that  sleep,  the  stubby  oak,  and  the 
stunted  beech,  dropped  their  brown  defiance  to  her,  and  pre- 
pared for  a  soft  repl3\  While  her  over-eager  children  (who 
had  started  forth  to  meet  her,  through  the  frost  and  shower 
of  sleet),  catkin'd  hazel,  gold-gloved  withy,  youthful  elder,  and 
old  woodbine,  with  all  the  tribe  of  good  hedge-climbers  (who 
must  hasten,  while  haste  they  may)  —  was  there  one  of  them, 
that  did  not  claim  the  merit  of  coming  first? 

There  she  stayed,  and  held  her  revel,  as  soon  as  the  fear  of 
frost  was  gone ;  all  the  air  was  a  fount  of  freshness,  and  the 
earth  of  gladness,  and  the  laughing  waters  prattled  of  the 
kindness  of  the  sun. 

But  all  this  made  it  much  harder  for  \\s,  plying  the  hoe  and 
harrow,  to  keep  the  fields  with  room  upon  them  for  the  corn 
to  tiller.  The  winter  wheat  was  Avell  enough,  being  sturdy 
and  strong-sided;  but  the  spring  wheat,  and  the  barley,  and 
oats  were  overrun  by  ill  weeds  growing  faster.  Therefore,  as 
the  old  saying  is,  — 

"Farmor,  that  thy  wifo  may  thrive, 
Let  lint  burr  and  bunlock  wive  ; 
And  if  tliou  wouldst  keep  thy  son, 
See  that  bine  and  gith  have  none." 

voi,.  I.  —  10 


146  LORN  A   BOONE. 

So  we  were  compelled  to  go  down  the  field  and  up  it,  strik- 
ing in  and  out  with  care  where  the  green  blades  hung  together, 
so  that  each  had  space  to  move  in,  and  to  spread  its  roots 
abroad.  And  I  do  assure  you  now,  though  you  may  not  be- 
lieve me,  it  was  harder  work  to  keep  John  Fry,  Bill  Dadds, 
and  Jem  Slocomb  all  in  a  line,  and  all  moving  nimbly  to  the 
tune  of  my  own  tool,  than  it  was  to  set  out  in  the  morning 
alone,  and  hoe  half-an-acre  by  dinner-time.  For,  instead  of 
keeping  the  good  ash  moving,  they  would  for  ever  be  finding 
something  to  look  at,  or  to  speak  of,  or  at  any  rate,  to  stop 
with;  blaming  the  shape  of  their  tools  perhaps,  or  talking 
about  other  people's  affairs;  or  what  was  most  irksome  of  all 
to  me,  taking  advantage  as  married  men,  and  whispering  jokes 
of  no  excellence,  about  my  having,  or  having  not,  or  being 
ashamed  of  a  sweetheart.  And  this  went  so  far  at  last,  that 
I  was  forced  to  take  two  of  them,  and  knock  their  heads 
together;  after  which  they  worked  with  a  better  will. 

When  we  met  together  in  the  evening  round  the  kitchen 
chimney -place,  after  the  men  had  had  their  supper,  and  their 
heavy  boots  were  gone,  my  mother,  and  Eliza,  would  do  their 
very  utmost  to  learn  what  I  was  thinking  of.  Not  that  we 
kept  any  fire  now,  after  the  crock  was  emptied;  but  that  we 
loved  to  see  the  ashes  cooling,  and  to  be  together.  At  these 
times,  Annie  would  never  ask  me  any  crafty  questions  (as 
Eliza  did),  but  would  sit  with  her  hair  untwined,  and  one 
hand  underneath  her  chin,  sometimes  looking  softly  at  me,  as 
much  as  to  say  that  she  knew  it  all,  and  I  was  no  worse  off 
than  she.  But,  strange  to  say,  my  mother  dreamed  not,  even 
for  an  instant,  that  it  was  possible  for  Annie  to  be  thinking 
of  such  a  thing.  She  was  so  very  good  and  quiet,  and  careful 
of  the  linen,  and  clever  about  the  cookery,  and  fowls,  and 
bacon-curing,  that  people  used  to  laugh,  and  say  she  would 
never  look  at  a  bachelor,  until  her  mother  ordered  her.  But 
I  (perhaps  from  my  own  condition,  and  the  sense  of  what  it 
was)  felt  no  certainty  about  this,  and  even  had  another  opin- 
ion, as  was  said  before. 

Often  I  was  much  inclined  to  speak  to  her  about  it,  and  put 
her  on  her  guard  against  the  approaches  of  Tom  Faggus ;  but 
I  could  not  find  how  to  begin,  and  feared  to  make  a  breach 
between  us;  knowing  that  if  her  mind  was  set,  no  words  of 
mine  would  alter  it;  although  they  needs  must  grieve  her 
deeply.  Moreover,  I  felt  that,  in  this  case,  a  certain  homely 
Devonshire  proverb  would  come  home  to  me;  that  one,  I 
mean,  which  records  that   the   crock  was  calling  the   kettle 


A   ROYAL  INVITATION.  147 

smutty.  Not,  of  course,  that  I  compared  my  innocent  maid 
to  a  highwayman;  but  that  Annie  might  think  her  worse,  and 
would  be  too  apt  to  do  so,  if  indeed  she  loved  Tom  Faggus. 
And  our  cousin  Tom,  by  this  time,  was  living  a  quiet  and 
godly  life ;  having  retired  almost  from  the  trade  (except  when 
he  needed  excitement,  or  came  across  public  officers),  and 
having  won  the  esteem  of  all  whose  purses  were  in  his  power. 

Perhaps  it  is  needless  for  me  to  say,  that  all  this  time, 
while  my  month  was  running  —  or  rather  crawling,  for  never 
month  went  so  slow  as  that  with  me  —  neither  weed,  nor  seed, 
nor  cattle,  nor  my  own  mother's  anxiety,  nor  any  care  for  my 
sister,  kept  me  from  looking  once  every  day,  and  even  twice 
on  a  Sunday,  for  any  sign  of  Lorna.  For  my  heart  was  ever 
weary;  in  the  budding  valleys,  and  by  the  crystal  waters, 
looking  at  the  lambs  in  fold,  or  the  heifers  on  the  hill,  labor- 
ing in  trickled  furrows,  or  among  the  beaded  blades ;  halting 
fresh  to  see  the  sun  lift  over  the  golden-vapored  ridge;  or 
doffing  hat,  from  sweat  of  brow,  to  watch  him  sink  in  the  low 
gray  sea;  be  it  as  it  would,  of  day,  of  work,  or  night,  or 
slumber,  it  was  a  weary  heart  I  bore,  and  fear  was  on  the 
brink  of  it. 

All  the  beauty  of  the  spring  went  for  happy  men  to  think 
of;  all  the  increase  of  the  year  was  for  other  eyes  to  mark. 
Not  a  sign  of  any  sunrise  for  me,  from  my  fount  of  life ;  not 
a  breath  to  stir  the  dead  leaves  fallen  on  my  heart's  Spring 


ig- 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    ROYAL    INVITATION". 

Although  I  had,  for  the  most  part,  so  very  stout  an  appe- 
tite, that  none  but  mother  saw  any  need  of  encouraging  me  to 
eat,  I  could  only  manage  one  true  good  meal  in  a  day,  at  the 
time  I  speak  of.  Mother  was  in  despair  at  this,  and  tempted 
me  with  the  whole  of  the  rack,  and  even  thought  of  sending 
to  Porlock  for  a  druggist  who  came  there  twice  in  a  week;  and 
Annie  spent  ail  her  time  in  cooking;  and  even  Lizzie  sang 
songs  to  me;  for  she  could  sing  very  sweetly.  But  my  con- 
science told  me  that  Betty  Muxworthy  had  some  reason  upon 
her  side. 

"Latt  the  young  ozebird  aloiin,  zay  I.  Makk  zucli  ado 
about  nil,  wi'  liogs'-])U(hl(!ns,  and  iiock-hits,  and   Ianil)s'-mate, 


148  LORNA  BOONE. 

and  wliaten  bradd  indade,  and  brewers'  ale  avore  dinner-time, 
and  her  not  to  zit  wi'  no  winder  aupen  —  draive  me  mad  'e 
doo,  the  lot  ov'ee,  zuch  a  passel  of  voouls.  Do'  un  good  to 
starve  a  bit;  and  takk  zome  on's  wackedness  out  ov  un." 

But  mother  did  not  see  it  so;  and  she  even  sent  for  Nicholas 
Snowe  to  bring  his  three  daughters  Avith  him,  and  have  ale 
and  cake  in  the  parlor,  and  advise  about  what  the  bees  were 
doing,  and  when  a  swarm  might  be  looked  for.  Being  vexed 
about  this,  and  having  to  stop  at  home  nearly  half  the  even- 
ing, I  lost  good  manners  so  much  as  to  ask  him  (even  in  our 
own  house !)  what  he  meant  by  not  mending  the  swing-hurdle, 
where  the  Lynn  stream  flows  from  our  land  into  iiis,  and  which 
he  is  bound  to  maintain.  But  he  looked  at  me  in  a  superior 
manner,  and  said,  "Business,  young  man,  in  business  time." 

I  had  other  reason  for  being  vexed  with  Farmer  Nicholas 
just  now,  viz.  that  I  had  heard  a  rumor,  after  church  one  Sun- 
day —  when  most  of  all  we  sorrow  over  the  sins  of  one  another 
—  that  Master  Nicholas  Snowe  had  been  seen  to  gaze  tenderly 
at  my  mother,  during  a  passage  of  the  sermon,  wherein  the 
parson  spoke  well  and  warmly  about  the  duty  of  Christian  love. 
Now,  putting  one  thing  with  another,  about  the  bees,  and 
about  some  ducks,  and  a  bullock  with  a  broken  knee-cap,  I 
more  than  suspected  that  Farmer  Nicholas  was  casting 
sheep's  eyes  at  my  mother;  not  only  to  save  all  further 
trouble  in  the  matter  of  the  hurdle,  but  to  override  me  alto- 
gether upon  the  difficult  question  of  damming.  And  I  knew 
quite  well  that  John  Fry's  wife  never  came  to  help  at  the 
washing,  without  declaring  that  it  was  a  sin,  for  a  well-looking 
woman  like  mother,  with  plenty  to  live  on,  and  only  three 
children,  to  keep  all  the  farmers  for  miles  around  so  unset- 
tled in  their  minds  about  her.  Mother  used  to  answer,  "  Oh 
fie.  Mistress  Fry!  be  good  enough  to  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness." But  we  ahvays  saw  that  she  smoothed  her  apron,  and 
did  her  hair  up  afterwards,  and  that  Mistress  Fry  went  home 
at  night  with  a  cold  pig's  foot,  or  a  bowl  of  dripping. 

Therefore,  on  that  very  night,  as  I  could  not  well  speak  to 
mother  about  it,  without  seeming  undutiful,  after  lighting  the 
three  young  ladies  —  for  so  in  sooth  they  called  themselves  — 
all  the  way  home  with  our  stable  lanthorn,  I  begged  good 
leave  of  Farmer  Nicholas  (who  had  hung  some  way  behind  us) 
to  say  a  word  in  private  to  him,  before  he  entered  his  own 
house. 

"Wi'  all  the  plaisure  in  laife,  my  zon,"  he  answered,  very 
graciously,  thinking  perhaps  that  I  was  prepared  to  speak 
concerning  Sally. 


A   ROYAL   INVITATION.  149 

"Now,  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe,"  I  said,  scarce  knowing 
how  to  begin  it,  "you  must  promise  not  to  be  vexed  with  me, 
for  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you." 

"  Vaxed  wi'  thee !  Noo,  noo,  my  lad.  I  'ave  a  knowed  thee 
too  long  for  that.  And  thy  veyther  were  my  best  friend, 
avore  thee.  Never  wronged  his  neighbors,  never  spak  an 
unkind  word,  never  had  no  maneness  in  him.  Tuk  a  vancy 
to  a  nice  young  'ooman,  and  never  kep  her  in  doubt  about  it, 
though  there  wadn't  mooch  to  zettle  on  her.  Spak  his  raaind 
laike  a  man,  he  did;  and  right  happy  he  were  wi'  her.  Ah, 
well  a  day!  Ah,  God  knoweth  best.  I  never  shall  zee  his 
laike  again.  And  he  were  the  best  judge  of  a  dung-heap, 
anywhere  in  this  county." 

"Well,  Master  Snowe,"  I  answered  him,  "it  is  very  hand- 
some of  you  to  say  so.  And  now  I  am  going  to  be  like  my 
father,  I  am  going  to  speak  my  mind." 

"Raight  there,  lad;  raight  enough,  I  reckon.  Us  has  had 
enough  of  pralimbinary." 

"  Then  what  I  want  to  say  is  this  —  I  won't  have  any  one 
courting  my  mother." 

"  Coortin'  of  thy  mother,  lad  ?  "  cried  Farmer  Snowe,  with 
as  much  amazement  as  if  the  thing  were  impossible;  "why, 
who  ever  hath  been  dooin'  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  courting  of  my  mother,  sir.  And  you  know  best  who 
comes  doing  it." 

"  Wull,  wull !  What  will  boys  be  up  to  next  ?  Zhud  a' 
thought  herzelf  wor  the  proper  judge.  No  thank  'ee,  lad,  no 
need  of  thy  light.  Know  the  wai  to  my  own  door,  at  laste ; 
and  have  a  raight  to  goo  there."  And  he  shut  me  out,  without 
30  much  as  offering  me  a  drink  of  cider. 

The  next  afternoon,  when  work  was  over,  I  had  seen  to  the 
horses,  for  now  it  was  foolish  to  trust  John  Fry,  because  he 
had  so  many  children,  and  his  wife  had  taken  to  scolding;  and 
just  as  I  was  saying  to  myself,  that  in  five  days  more  my 
month  would  be  done,  and  myself  free  to  seek  Lorna,  a  man 
came  riding  up  from  the  ford  where  the  road  goes  through  the 
Lynn  stream.  As  soon  as  I  saw  that  it  was  not  Tom  Faggus, 
I  went  no  further  to  meet  him,  counting  that  it  must  be  some 
traveller  bound  for  Brendon  or  Cheriton,  and  likely  enough 
he  would  come  and  beg  for  a  draught  of  milk  or  cider;  and 
then  on  again,  after  asking  the  way. 

But  instead  of  that,  he  stopped  at  our  gate,  and  stood  up 
from  his  saddle,  and  holloed,  as  if  he  were  somebody;  and  all 
tlie  time  he  was  flourishing  a  white  thing  in  tlie  air,  like  the 


150  LORNA   DOONE. 

bands  our  ptirson  wearetli.  So  I  crossed  tlie  court-yard  to 
speak  with  him. 

''Service  of  the  King!"  he  saitli;  "service  of  our  lord  the 
King!  Come  hither,  thou  great  yokel,  at  risk  of  fine  and 
imprisonment." 

Although  not  pleased  with  this,  I  went  to  him,  as  became 
a  loyal  man;  quite  at  my  leisure,  however,  for  there  is  no  man 
born  who  can  hurry  me,  though  I  hasten  for  any  woman. 

"Plover  Barrows  farm!"  said  he;  "God  only  knows  how 
tired  I  be.  Is  there  anywhere  in  this  cursed  county  a  cursed 
place  called  'Plover  Barrows  farm  '?  For  last  twenty  mile  at 
least  they  told  me,  'twere  only  half-a-mile  further,  or  only 
just  round  corner.  Now  tell  me  that,  and  I  fain  would  thwack 
thee,  if  thou  wert  not  thrice  my  size." 

"Sir,"  I  replied,  "you  shall  not  have  the  trouble.  This  is 
Plover's  Barrows  farm,  and  you  are  kindly  welcome.  Sheep's 
kidneys  is  for  supper,  and  the  ale  got  bright  from  the  tap- 
ping. But  why  do  you  think  ill  of  us?  We  like  not  to  be 
cursed  so." 

"Nay,  I  think  no  ill,"  he  said;  "sheep's  kidneys  is  good, 
uncommon  good,  if  they  do  them  without  burning.  But  I  be 
so  galled  in  the  saddle  ten  days,  and  never  a  comely  meal 
of  it.  And  when  they  hear  'King's  service '  cried,  they  give 
me  the  worst  of  everything.  All  the  way  down  from  London, 
I  had  a  rogue  of  a  fellow  in  front  of  me,  eating  the  fat  of  the 
land  before  me,  and  every  one  bowing  down  to  him.  He  could 
go  three  miles  to  my  one,  though  he  never  changed  his  horse. 
He  might  have  robbed  me  at  any  minute,  if  I  had  been  worth 
the  trouble.  A  red  mare  he  rideth,  strong  in  the  loins,  and 
pointed  quite  small  in  the  head.  I  shall  live  to  see  him 
hanged  yet." 

All  this  time  he  was  riding  across  the  straw  of  our  court- 
yard, getting  his  weary  legs  out  of  the  leathers,  and  almost 
afraid  to  stand  yet.  A  coarse-grained,  hard-faced  man  he  was, 
some  forty  years  of  age  or  so,  and  of  middle  height  and  stat- 
ure. He  was  dressed  in  a  dark  brown  riding  suit,  none  the 
better  for  Exmoor  mud,  but  fitting  him  very  differently  from 
the  fashion  of  our  tailors.  Across  the  holsters  lay  his  cloak, 
made  of  some  red  skin,  and  shining  from  the  sweating  of  the 
horse.  As  I  looked  down  on  his  stiff  bright  head-piece,  small 
quick  eyes,  and  black  needly  beard,  he  seemed  to  despise  me 
(too  much,  as  I  thought)  for  a  mere  ignoramus  and  country 
bumpkin. 

"Annie,  have  down  the  cut  ham,"  I  shouted;  for  my  sister 


A   EOYAL   INVITATION.  151 

was  come  to  the  door  by  chance,  or  because  of  the  sound  of  a 
horse  in  the  road,  "and  cut  a  few  rashers  of  hung  deer's  meat. 
There  is  a  gentleman  come  to  sup,  Annie.  And  fetch  the 
hops  out  of  the  tap  with  a  skewer,  that  it  may  run  more 
sparkling." 

"I  wish  I  may  go  to  a  place  never  meant  for  me,"  said  my 
new  friend,  now  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  sleeve  of  his  brown 
riding  coat,  "  if  ever  I  fell  among  such  good  folk.  You  are 
the  right  sort,  and  no  error  therein.  All  this  shall  go  in 
your  favor  greatly,  when  I  make  deposition.  At  least,  I  mean, 
if  it  be  as  good  in  the  eating  as  in  the  hearing.  'Tis  a  supper 
quite  fit  for  Tom  Faggus  himself,  the  man  who  hath  stolen 
my  victuals  so.  And  that  hung  deer's  meat,  now  is  it  of  the 
red  deer  running  wild  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"To  be  sure  it  is,  sir,"  I  answered;  "where  should  we  get 
any  other  ?  " 

"Right,  right,  you  are  right,  my  son.  I  have  heard  that 
the  flavor  is  marvellous.  Some  of  them  came  and  scared  me 
so,  in  the  fog  of  the  morning,  that  I  hungered  for  them  ever 
since.  Ha,  ha,  I  saw  their  haunches.  But  the  young  lady 
will  not  forget  —  art  sure  .she  will  not  forget  it  ?  " 

"  You  may  trust  her  to  forget  nothing,  sir,  that  may  tempt 
a  guest  to  his  comfort." 

"  In  faith,  then,  I  will  leave  my  horse  in  your  hands,  and 
be  off  for  it.  Half  the  pleasure  of  the  mouth  is  in  the  nose 
beforehand.  But  stay,  almost  I  forgot  my  business,  in  the 
hurry  which  thy  tongue  hath  spread  through  my  lately 
despairing  belly.  Hungry  I  am,  and  sore  of  body,  from  my 
heels  right  upward,  and  sorest  in  front  of  my  doublet;  yet 
may  I  not  rest,  nor  bite  barley-bread,  until  I  have  seen  and 
touched  John  Ridd.  God  grant  that  he  be  not  far  away;  I 
must  eat  my  saddle,  if  it  be  so." 

"Have  no  fear,  good  sir,"  I  answered;  "you  have  seen  and 
touched  John  Ridd.  I  am  he,  and  not  one  likely  to  go  be- 
neath a  bushel." 

"  It  would  take  a  large  bushel  to  hold  thee,  John  Ridd.  In 
tlie  name  of  tlie  King,  His  Majesty,  Charles  the  Second,  these 
presents !  " 

He  touched  me  with  the  white  thing  which  I  had  first  seen 
him  waving,  and  which  I  now  bclield  to  be  sheepskin,  such  as 
they  call  parchment.  It  was  tied  across  with  cord,  and 
fastened  down  in  every  corner  with  unsightly  dabs  of  wax. 
By  order  of  the  messenger  (for  I  was  over-frightened  now  to 
think  of  doing  anything),  I  broke  enough  of  seals  to  keep  an 


152  LORNA   BOONE. 

Easter  gliost  from  rising;  and  there  I  saw  my  name  in  large; 
God  grant  such  another  shock  may  never  befall  me  in  my  old 
age. 

"Read,  my  son;  read,  thou  great  fool,  if  indeed  thou  canst 
read,"  said  the  officer  to  encourage  me;  "there  is  nothing  to 
kill  thee,  boy,  and  my  supper  will  be  spoiling.  Stare  not  at 
me  so,  thou  fool;  thou  art  big  enough  to  eat  me;  read,  read, 
read." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  I  asked :  though 
why  I  asked  him  I  know  not,  except  from  fear  of  witchcraft. 

"Jeremy  Stickles  is  my  name,  lad,  nothing  more  than  a 
poor  apparitor  of  the  worshipful  Court  of  King's  Bench. 
And  at  this  moment  a  starving  one,  and  no  supper  for  me, 
unless  thou  wilt  read." 

Being  compelled  in  this  way,  I  read  pretty  nigh  as  follows ; 
not  that  I  give  the  whole  of  it,  but  only  the  gist  and  the 
emphasis :  — 

"To  our  good  subject,  John  Ridd,  &c."  —  describing  me 
ever  so  much  better  than  I  knew  myself  —  "by  these  presents, 
greeting.  These  are  to  require  thee,  in  the  name  of  our  lord 
the  King,  to  appear  in  person  before  the  Right  Worshipful 
the  Justices  of  His  Majesty's  Bench  at  Westminster,  laying 
aside  all  thine  own  business,  and  there  to  deliver  such  evi- 
dence as  is  within  thy  cognizance,  touching  certain  matters 
whereby  the  peace  of  our  said  lord  the  King,  and  the  well- 
being  of  this  realm,  is,  are,  or  otherwise  may  be  impeached, 
impugned,  imperilled,  or  otherwise  detrimented.  As  witness 
these  presents."  And  then  there  were  four  seals,  and  then  a 
signature  I  could  not  make  out,  only  that  it  began  with  a  J, 
and  ended  with  some  other  writing,  done  almost  in  a  circle. 
Underneath  was  added  in  a  different  handwriting,  "Charges 
will  be  borne.     The  matter  is  full  urgent." 

The  messenger  watched  me,  while  I  read  so  much  as  I  could 
read  of  it;  and  he  seemed  well-pleased  with  my  surprise,  be- 
cause he  had  expected  it.  Then,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do, 
I  looked  again  at  the  cover,  and  on  the  top  of  it  I  saw,  "  Ride, 
Ride,  Ride!  On  His  Gracious  Majesty's  business;  spur  and 
spare  not." 

It  may  be  supposed  by  all  who  know  me,  that  I  was  taken 
hereupon  with  such  a  giddiness  in  my  head,  and  noisiness  in 
my  ears,  that  I  was  forced  to  hold  by  the  crook  driven  in  below 
the  thatch  for  holding  of  the  hay-rakes.  There  was  scarcely 
any  sense  left  in  me,  only  that  the  thing  was  come  by  power 
of  Mother  Melldrum,  because  I  despised  her  warning,  and  had 


A   ROYAL  INVITATION,  153 

again  sought  Lorna.  But  the  officer  was  grieved  for  me,  and 
the  danger  to  his  supper. 

"My  son,  be  not  afraid,"  he  said;  "we  are  not  going  to 
skin  thee.  Only  thou  tell  all  the  truth,  and  it  shall  be  —  but 
never  mind,  I  will  tell  thee  all  about  it,  and  how  to  come  out 
harmless,  if  I  find  thy  victuals  good,  and  no  delay  in  serving 
them." 

"We  do  our  best,  sir,  without  bargain,"  said  I,  "to  please 
our  visitors." 

But  when  my  mother  saw  that  parclimont  (for  we  could  not 
keep  it  from  her)  she  fell  away  into  her  favorite  bed  of  stock 
gilly-flowers,  which  she  had  been  tending;  and  when  we 
brought  her  round  again,  did  nothing  but  exclaim  against  the 
wickedness  of  the  age  and  people.  "  It  was  useless  to  tell 
her;  she  knew  what  it  was,  and  so  should  all  the  parish  know. 
The  King  had  heard  what  her  son  was,  how  sober,  and  quiet, 
and  diligent,  and  the  strongest  young  man  in  England;  and 
being  himself  such  a  reprobate  —  God  forgive  her  for  saying 
so  —  he  could  never  rest  till  he  got  poor  Johnny,  and  made 
him  as  dissolute  as  himself.  And  if  he  did  that "  —  here 
mother  went  oft"  into  a  fit  of  crying;  and  Annie  minded  her 
face,  while  Lizzie  saw  that  her  gown  was  in  comely  order. 

But  the  character  of  the  King  improved,  when  Master  Jer- 
emy Stickles  (being  really  moved  by  the  look  of  it,  and  no  bad 
man  after  all)  laid  it  clearly  before  my  mother,  that  the  King 
on  his  throne  was  unhappy,  until  he  had  seen  John  Kidd. 
That  the  fame  of  John  had  gone  so  far,  and  his  size,  and  all 
his  virtues  —  that  verily  by  the  God  who  made  him,  the  King 
was  overcome  with  it. 

Then  mother  lay  back  in  her  garden  chair,  and  smiled  upon 
the  whole  of  us,  and  most  of  all  on  eTeremy ;  looking  only  shyly 
on  me,  and  speaking  through  some  break  of  tears.  "His 
Majesty  shall  have  my  John;  His  Majesty  is  very  good:  but 
only  for  a  fortnight.  I  want  no  titles  for  him.  Johnny  is 
enough  for  me;  and  Master  Jolm  for  the  working  men." 

Now  though  my  mother  was  so  willing  that  I  should  go  to 
London,  expecting  great  promotion  and  high  glory  for  me,  I 
myself  was  deeply  gone  into  the  pit  of  sorrow.  For  what  would 
Lorna  tliink  of  me?  Here  was  the  long  month  just  expired, 
after  worlds  of  waiting;  there  would  be  her  lovely  self,  peep- 
ing softly  down  the  glen,  and  fearing  to  encourage  me;  yet 
there  would  be  no])ody  else,  and  what  an  insult  to  her!  Dwell- 
ing upon  this,  and  seeing  no  chance  of  escape  from  it,  I  could 
not  find  one  wink  of  sleep;  though  Jeremy  Stickles  (who  slept 


154  LORNA   nOONE. 

close  by)  snored  loud  enough  to  spare  me  some.  For  I  felt 
myself  to  be,  as  it  were,  in  a  place  of  some  importance ;  in  a 
situation  of  trust,  I  may  say;  and  bound  not  to  depart  from 
it.  For  who  could  tell  what  the  King  might  have  to  say  to  me 
about  the  Doones  —  and  I  felt  that  they  were  at  the  bottom  of 
this  strange  appearance  —  or  what  His  Majesty  might  think,  if 
after  receiving  a  message  from  him  (trusty  imder  so  many 
seals)  I  were  to  violate  his  faith  in  me  as  a  churchwarden's 
son,  and  falsely  spread  his  words  abroad? 

Perhaps  I  was  not  wise  in  building  such  a  wall  of  scruples. 
Nevertheless,  all  that  was  there,  and  weighed  upon  me  heavily. 
And  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to  this,  that  even  Lorna  must 
not  know  the  reason  of  my  going,  neither  anything  about  it; 
but  that  she  might  know  I  was  gone  a  long  way  from  home, 
and  perhaps  be  sorry  for  it.  iSTow  how  was  I  to  let  her  know 
even  that  much  of  the  matter,  without  breaking  compact? 

Puzzling  on  this,  I  fell  asleep,  after  the  proper  time  to  get 
up ;  nor  was  I  to  be  seen  at  breakfast  time ;  and  mother  (being 
quite  strange  to  that)  was  very  uneasy  about  it.  But  Master 
Stickles  assured  her  that  the  King's  writ  often  had  that  elfect, 
and  the  symptom  was  a  good  one. 

"Now,  Master  Stickles,  when  must  we  start?"  I  asked  him, 
as  he  lounged  in  the  yard,  gazing  at  our  turkey  poults  picking 
and  running  in  the  sun,  to  the  tune  of  their  father's  gobble. 

"  Your  horse  was  greatly  foundered,  sir,  and  is  hardly  fit  for 
the  road  to-day;  and  Smiler  was  sledding  yesterday  all  up  the 
higher  Cleve;  and  none  of  the  rest  can  carry  me." 

"In  a  few  more  years,"  replied  the  King's  officer,  contem- 
plating me  with  much  satisfaction,  "  'twill  be  a  cruelty  to  any 
horse  to  put  thee  on  his  back,  John." 

Master  Stickles,  by  this  time  was  quite  familiar  with  us, 
calling  me  "Jack,"  and  Eliza  "Lizzie,"  and  what  I  liked  the 
least  of  all,  our  pretty  Annie  "Nancy." 

"That  will  be  as  God  pleases,  sir,"  I  answered  him,  rather 
sharply;  "and  the  horse  that  suffers  will  not  be  thine.  But 
I  wish  to  know,  when  we  must  start  upon  our  long  travel  to 
London  town.  I  perceive  that  the  matter  is  of  great  despatch 
and  urgency." 

"To  be  sure,  so  it  is,  my  son.  But  I  see  a  yearling  turkey 
there,  liim  I  mean  with  the  hop  in  his  walk,  who  (if  I  know 
aught  of  fowls)  would  roast  well  to-morrow.  Thy  mother  must 
have  preparation:  it  is  no  more  than  reasonable.  Now,  have 
that  turkey  killed  to-night  (for  his  fatness  makes  me  long  for 
him),  and  we  will  have  him  for  dinner  to-morrow,  with,  per- 


A   ROYAL  INVITATION.  155 

haps,  one  of  his  brethren;  and  a  few  more  collops  of  red  deer's 
flesh  for  supper ;  and  then  on  the  Friday  morning,  with  the 
grace  of  God,  we  will  set  our  faces  to  the  road,  upon  His 
Majesty's  business." 

"Xay,  but  good  sir,"  I  asked  with  some  trembling,  so  eager 
was  I  to  see  Lorna;  "if  His  Majesty's  business  will  keep  till 
Friday,  may  it  not  keep  until  Monday?  We  have  a  litter  of 
sucking-pigs,  excellently  choice  and  white,  six  weeks  old,  come 
Friday.  There  be  too  many  for  the  sow,  and  one  of  them 
needeth  roasting.  Think  you  not,  it  would  be  a  pity  to  leave 
the  women  to  carve  it?" 

"My  son  Jack,"  replied  Master  Stickles,  "never  was  I  in 
such  quarters  yet :  and  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  so  unthank- 
ful to  Him  as  to  hurry  away.  And  now  I  think  on  it,  Friday 
is  not  a  day  upon  which  pious  people  love  to  commence  an 
enterprise.  I  will  choose  the  young  pig  to-morrow  at  noon,  at 
which  time  they  are  wont  to  gambol ;  and  we  will  celebrate 
his  birthday  by  carving  him  on  Friday.  After  that  we  will 
gird  our  loins,  and  set  forth  early  on  Saturday." 

Now  this  was  little  better  to  me  than  if  we  had  set  forth  at 
once,  Sunday  being  the  very  first  day,  upon  which  it  would  be 
honorable  for  me  to  enter  Glen  Doone.  But  though  I  tried 
every  possible  means  with  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  offering 
him  the  choice  for  dinner  of  every  beast  that  was  on  the  farm, 
he  durst  not  put  oif  our  departure  later  than  the  Saturday. 
And  nothing  else  but  love  of  us,  and  of  our  hospitality,  would 
have  so  persuaded  him  to  remain  with  us  till  then.  Therefore 
now  my  only  chance  of  seeing  Lorna,  before  I  went,  lay  in 
watching  from  the  cliff  and  espying  her,  or  a  signal  from  her. 

This,  however,  I  did  in  vain,  until  my  eyes  were  weary,  and 
often  would  delude  themselves  with  hope  of  what  they  ached 
for.  But  thougli  I  lay  hidden  behind  the  trees  upon  the  crest 
of  the  stony  fall,  and  waited  so  quiet  that  the  rabbits  and 
squirrels  played  around  me,  and  even  the  keen-eyed  weasel 
took  me  for  a  trunk  of  wood  —  it  was  all  as  one;  no  cast  of 
color  changed  the  white  stone,  whose  whiteness  now  was  hate- 
ful to  me ;  nor  did  wreath  or  skirt  of  maiden  break  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  vale. 


156  LOBNA   DOONE. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A   SAFE    PASS    FOR    KINg's    MESSENGER. 

A  JOURNEY  to  London  seemed  to  us,  in  those  bygone  days,  as 
hazardous  and  dark  an  adventure  as  could  be  forced  on  any 
man.  I  mean,  of  course,  a  poor  man;  for  to  a  great  nobleman 
with  ever  so  many  outriders,  attendants,  and  retainers,  the  risk 
was  not  so  great,  unless  the  highwaymen  knew  of  their  coming 
beforehand,  and  so  combined  against  them.  To  a  poor  man, 
however,  the  risk  was  not  so  much  from  those  gentlemen  of 
the  road,  as  from  the  more  ignoble  footpads,  and  the  land- 
lords of  the  lesser  hostels,  and  the  loose  unguarded  soldiers, 
over  and  above  the  pitfalls  and  the  quagmires  of  the  way;  so 
that  it  was  hard  to  settle,  at  the  first  outgoing,  whether  a  man 
were  wise  to  pray  more  for  his  neck  or  for  his  head. 

But  now-a-days  it  is  very  different.  Not  that  highwaymen 
are  scarce,  in  this  the  reign  of  our  good  Queen  Anne ;  for  in 
truth  they  thrive  as  well  as  ever,  albeit  they  deserve  it  not,  be- 
ing less  upright  and  courteous  —  but  that  the  roads  are  much 
improved,  and  the  growing  use  of  stage-waggons  (some  of 
which  will  travel  as  much  as  forty  miles  in  a  summer  day)  has 
turned  our  ancient  ideas  of  distance  almost  upside  down;  and 
I  doubt  whether  God  be  pleased  with  our  flying  so  fast  away 
from  Him.  However,  that  is  not  my  business;  nor  does  it  lie 
in  my  mouth  to  speak  very  strongly  upon  the  subject,  seeing 
how  much  I  myself  have  done  towards  making  of  roads  upon 
Exmoor. 

To  return  to  my  story  (and,  in  truth,  I  lose  that  road  too 
often),  it  would  have  taken  ten  King's  messengers  to  get  me 
away  from  Plover's  Barrows,  without  one  good-bye  to  Lorna, 
but  for  my  sense  of  the  trust  and  reliance  which  His  Majesty 
had  reposed  in  me.  And  now  I  felt  most  bitterly,  how  the 
very  arrangements  which  seemed  so  wise,  and  indeed  ingenious, 
may  by  the  force  of  events  become  our  most  fatal  obstacles. 
For  lo !  I  was  blocked  entirely  from  going  to  see  Lorna;  whereas 
we  should  have  fixed  it  so  that  I  as  well  might  have  the  power 
of  signalling  my  necessity. 

It  was  too  late  now  to  think  of  that;  and  so  I  made  up  my 
mind  at  last  to  keep  my  honor  on  both  sides,  both  to  the  King 
and  to  the  maiden,  although  I  might  lose  everything  except  a 
heavy  heart  for  it.     And  indeed,  more  hearts  than  mine  were 


A   SAFE  PASS  FOR    KING'S  MESSENGER.  157 

heavy ;  for  when  it  came  to  the  tug  of  parting,  my  mother  was 
like,  and  so  was  Annie,  to  break  down  altogether.  But  I  bade 
them  be  of  good  cheer,  and  smiled  in  the  briskest  manner  upon 
them,  and  said  that  I  should  be  back  next  week  as  one  of  His 
Majesty's  greatest  captains,  and  told  them  not  to  fear  me 
then.  Upon  which  they  smiled  at  the  idea  of  ever  being  afraid 
of  me,  whatever  dress  I  might  have  on ;  and  so  I  kissed  my 
hand  once  morCj  and  rode  away  very  bravely.  But  bless  your 
heart,  I  could  no  more  have  done  so  than  flown  all  the  way  to 
London,  if  Jeremy  Stickles  had  not  been  there. 

And  not  to  take  too  much  credit  to  myself  in  this  matter,  I 
must  confess  that  when  we  were  come  to  the  turn  of  the  road, 
where  the  moor  begins,  and  whence  you  see  the  last  of  the  yard, 
and  the  ricks  and  the  poultry  round  them,  and  can  (by  know- 
ing the  place)  obtain  a  glance  of  the  kitchen  window  under  the 
walnut-tree,  it  went  so  hard  with  me  just  here,  that  I  even 
made  pretence  of  a  stone  in  ancient  Smiler's  shoe,  to  dismount, 
and  to  bend  my  head  awhile.  Then,  knowing  that  those  I  had 
left  behind  would  be  watching  to  see  the  last  of  me,  and  might 
have  false  hopes  of  my  coming  back,  I  mounted  again  with  all 
possible  courage,  and  rode  after  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Jeremy,  seeing  how  much  I  was  down,  did  his  best  to  keep 
me  up  with  jokes,  and  tales,  and  light  discourse,  until,  before 
we  had  ridden  a  league,  I  began  to  long  to  see  the  things  he 
was  describing.  The  air,  the  weather,  and  the  thoughts  of  going 
to  a  wondrous  place,  as  well  as  the  fine  company  —  at  least 
so  Jeremy  said  it  was  —  of  a  man  who  knew  all  London,  made 
me  feel  that  I  should  be  ungracious  not  to  laugh  a  little.  And 
being  very  simple  then  I  laughed  no  more  a  little,  but  some- 
thing quite  considerable  (though  free  from  consideration)  at 
the  strange  things  Master  Stickles  told  me,  and  his  strange 
way  of  telling  them.  And  so  we  became  very  excellent  friends, 
for  he  was  much  pleased  with  my  laughing. 

Not  wishing  to  thrust  myself  more  forAvard  than  need  be  in 
this  narrative,  I  have  scarcely  thought  it  becoming  or  right  to 
speak  of  my  own  adornments.  Biit  now,  what  with  the  brave 
clothes  I  had  on,  and  the  better  ones  still  that  wore  packed  up 
in  the  bag  behind  the  saddle,  it  is  almost  beyond  me  to  forbear 
saying  tliat  I  must  have  looked  very  pleasing.  And  many  a 
time  I  wished,  going  along,  that  Lorna  could  only  be  here  and 
there,  watching  behind  a  furze-bush,  looking  at  me,  and  won- 
dering liow  much  my  clothes  had  cost.  For  mother  would 
have  no  stint  in  the  matter,  but  had  assembled  at  our  house, 
immodiatcly  upon  knowledge  of  what  was  to  be  abotit  London, 


158  LOENA   BOONE. 

every  man  known  to  be  a  good  stitcher  upon  our  side  of 
Exnioor.  And  for  three  days  they  had  worked  their  best, 
without  thrift  of  beer  or  cider,  according  to  the  constitution  of 
each.  The  result,  so  they  all  declared,  was  such  as  to  create 
admiration,  and  defy  competition  in  London.  And  to  me  it 
seemed  that  they  were  quite  right;  though  Jeremy  Stickles 
turned  up  his  nose  and  feigned  to  be  deaf  in  the  business. 

Now  be  that  matter  as  you  please  —  for  the  point  is  not  worth 
arguing  —  certain  it  is  that  my  appearance  was  better  than  it 
had  been  before.  For  being  in  the  best  clothes,  one  tries  to 
look  and  to  act  (so  far  as  may  be)  up  to  the  quality  of  them. 
Not  only  from  the  fear  of  soiling  them,  but  that  they  enlarge 
a  man's  perception  of  his  value.  And  it  strikes  me  that  our 
sins  arise,  partly  from  disdain  of  others,  but  mainly  from  con- 
tempt of  self,  both  working  the  despite  of  God.  But  men  of 
mind  may  not  be  measured  by  such  paltry  rule  as  this. 

By  dinner-time  we  arrived  at  Porlock,  and  dined  with  my 
old  friend.  Master  Pooke,  now  growing  rich  and  portly.  For 
though  we  had  plenty  of  victuals  with  us,  we  were  not  to  begin 
upon  them,  until  all  chance  of  victualling  among  our  friends 
was  left  behind.  And  during  that  first  day  we  had  no  need  to 
meddle  with  our  store  at  all;  for  as  had  been  settled  before 
we  left  home,  we  lay  that  night  at  Dunster,  in  the  house  of  a 
worthy  tanner,  first  cousin  to  my  mother,  who  received  us 
very  cordially,  and  undertook  to  return  old  Smiler  to  his  stable 
at  Plover's  Barrows,  after  one  day's  rest. 

Thence  we  hired  to  Bridgewater ;  and  from  Bridgewater  on 
to  Bristowe,  breaking  the  journey  between  the  two.  But  al- 
though the  whole  way  was  so  new  to  me,  and  such  a  perpet- 
ual source  of  conflict,  that  the  remembrance  still  abides  with 
me,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  I  must  not  be  so  long  in  tell- 
ing as  it  was  in  travelling,  or  you  will  wish  me  further;  both 
because  Lorna  was  nothing  there,  and  also  because  a  man  in 
our  neighborhood  hath  done  the  whole  of  it  since  my  time,  and 
feigns  to  think  nothing  of  it.  However,  one  thing,  in  common 
justice  to  a  person  who  has  been  traduced,  I  am  bound  to  men- 
tion. And  this  is,  that  being  two  of  us,  and  myself  of  such 
magnitude,  we  never  could  have  made  our  journey  without 
either  fight  or  running,  but  for  the  free  pass  which  dear  Annie, 
by  some  means  (I  know  not  what),  had  procured  from  Master 
Paggus.  And  when  I  let  it  be  known,  by  some  hap,  that  I  was 
the  own  cousin  of  Tom  Paggus,  and  honored  with  his  society, 
there  was  not  a  house  upon  the  road  but  was  proud  to  entertain 
me,  in  spite  of  my  fellow-traveller  bearing  the  red  badge  of  the 
King. 


A    SAFE  PASS  FOE  KING'S  MESSENGER.  159 

"I  will  keep  this  close,  my  son  Jack,"  he  said,  having 
stripped  it  off  with  a  carving-knife;  "yovir  flag  is  the  best  to 
fly.  The  man  who  starved  me  on  the  way  down,  the  same  shall 
feed  me  fat  going  home." 

Therefore  we  pursued  our  way,  in  excellent  condition,  hav- 
ing thriven  upon  the  credit  of  that  very  popular  highwayman, 
and  being  surrounded  with  regrets  that  he  had  left  the  profes- 
sion, and  sometimes  begged  to  intercede  that  he  might  help 
the  road  again.  For  all  the  landlords  on  the  road  declared 
that  now  small  ale  was  drunk,  nor  much  of  spirits  called  for; 
because  the  farmers  need  not  prime  to  meet  only  common 
riders,  neither  were  these  worth  the  while  to  get  drunk  with 
afterwards.  Master  Stickles  himself  undertook,  as  an  officer 
of  the  King's  Justices,  to  plead  this  case  with  Squire  Faggus 
(as  everybody  called  him  now),  and  to  induce  him,  for  the 
general  good,  to  return  to  his  proper  ministry. 

It  was  a  long  and  Aveary  journey,  although  the  roads  are 
wondrous  good  on  the  further  side  of  Bristowe,  and  scarcely 
any  man  need  be  bogged,  if  he  keeps  his  eyes  well  open,  save, 
perhaps,  in  Berkshire.  In  consequence  of  the  pass  we  had,  and 
the  vintners'  knowledge  of  it,  we  only  met  two  public  riders, 
one  of  whom  made  off  straightway  when  he  saw  my  compan- 
ion's pistols  and  the  stout  carbine  I  bore ;  and  the  other  came 
to  a  parley  with  us,  and  proved  most  kind  and  affable,  when 
he  knew  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  cousin  of  Squire  Faggus. 
"God  save  you,  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  lifting  his  hat  politely; 
"  many  and  many  a  happy  day,  I  have  worked  this  road  with 
him.  Such  times  will  never  be  again.  But  commend  me  to 
his  love  and  prayers.  King  my  name  is,  and  King  my  nature. 
Say  that,  and  none  will  harm  you."  And  so  he  made  off  down 
the  hill,  being  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  very  good  horse  he 
was  riding. 

The  night  was  falling  very  thick  by  the  time  we  were  come 
to  Tyburn,  and  here  the  King's  officer  decided  that  it  would  be 
wise  to  halt;  because  the  way  was  unsafe  by  night  across  the 
fields  to  Charing  village.  I  for  my  part  was  nothing  loth,  and 
preferred  to  see  London  by  daylight. 

And  after  all,  it  was  not  worth  seeing,  but  a  very  hideous 
and  dirty  place,  not  at  all  like  Exmoor.  Some  of  the  sliops 
were  very  fine,  and  the  signs  above  them  finer  still,  so  that  I 
was  never  weary  of  standing  still  to  look  at  tliem.  But  in 
doing  this  there  was  no  ease;  for  before  one  could  begin  almost 
to  make  out  the  meaning  of  them,  eitlier  some  of  the  way-farers 
would  bustle,  and  scowl,  and  draw  their  swords,  or  the  owner, 


160  LORNA   BOONE. 

or  his  apprentice  boys,  would  rush  out  and  catch  hold  of  me, 
crying,  "Buy,  buy,  buy!  What  dy'e  lack,  what  dy'e  lack? 
Buy,  buy,  buy !  "  At  first  I  mistook  the  meaning  of  this  —  for 
so  we  pronounce  the  word  "boy"  u})on  Exnioor, —  and  I  an- 
swered with  some  indignation,  "  Sirrah,  I  am  no  boy  now, 
but  a  man  of  one-and-twenty  years;  and  as  for  lacking,  I 
lack  nought  from  thee,  except  what  thou  hast  not  —  good 
manners." 

The  only  things  that  pleased  me  much  were  the  river  Thames, 
and  the  hall  and  church  of  Westminster,  where  there  are  brave 
things  to  be  seen,  and  braver  still  to  think  about.  But  when- 
ever I  wandered  in  the  streets,  what  with  the  noise  the  people 
made,  the  number  of  the  coaches,  the  running  of  the  footmen, 
the  swaggering  of  great  courtiers,  and  thrusting  aside  of  every 
body,  many  and  many  a  time  I  longed  to  be  back  among  the 
sheep  again,  for  fear  of  losing  temper.  They  were  welcome 
to  the  wall  for  me,  as  I  took  care  to  tell  them,  for  I  could  stand 
without  the  wall,  which  perhaps  was  more  than  they  could  do. 
Though  I  said  this  with  the  best  intention,  meaning  no  dis- 
courtesy, some  of  them  Avere  vexed  at  it ;  and  one  young  lord, 
being  flushed  with  drink,  drew  his  sword  and  made  at  me. 
But  I  struck  it  up  with  my  holly  stick,  so  that  it  flew  on  the 
roof  of  a  house,  then  I  took  him  by  the  belt  with  one  hand, 
and  laid  him  in  the  kennel.  This  caused  some  little  disturb- 
ance :  but  none  of  the  rest  saw  flt  to  try  how  the  matter  might 
be  with  them. 

Now  this  being  the  year  of  our  Lord  1683,  more  than  nine 
years  and  a  half  since  the  death  of  my  father,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  this  history,  all  London  was  in  a  great  ferment,  about 
the  dispute  between  the  Court  of  the  King  and  the  City.  The 
King,  or  rather  perhaps  his  party  (for  they  said  that  His 
Majesty  cared  for  little,  except  to  have  plenty  of  money  and 
spend  it),  was  quite  resolved  to  be  supreme  in  the  appointment 
of  the  chief  officers  of  the  corporation.  But  the  citizens  main- 
tained that  (under  their  charter)  this  right  lay  entirely  with 
themselves ;  ixpon  which  a  writ  was  issued  against  them  for 
forfeiture  of  their  charter;  and  the  question  was  now  being 
tried  in  the  court  of  His  Majesty's  bench. 

This  seemed  to  occupy  all  the  attention  of  the  judges,  and 
my  case  (which  had  appeared  so  urgent)  was  put  off  from  time 
to  time,  while  the  Court  and  the  City  contended.  And  so  hot 
was  the  conflict  and  hate  between  them,  that  a  sheriff  had  been 
fined  by  the  king  in  100,000?.,  and  a  former  lord  mayor  had 
even  been  sentenced  to  the  pillory,  because  he  would  not  swear 


A    SAFE  PASS  FOR   KING'S  MESSENGEE.  161 

falsely.  Hence  the  courtiers  and  the  citizens  scarce  could 
meet  in  the  streets  with  patience,  or  without  railing  and 
frequent  blows. 

Now  although  I  heard  so  much  of  this  matter,  for  nothing 
else  was  talked  of,  and  it  seemed  to  me  more  important  even 
than  the  churchwardeuship  of  Oare,  I  could  not  for  the  life  of 
me  tell  which  side  I  should  take  to.  For  all  my  sense  of  posi- 
tion, and  of  confidence  reposed  in  me,  and  of  my  father's 
opinions,  lay  heavily  in  one  scale ;  while  all  my  reason,  and 
my  heart,  went  down  plump  against  injustice,  and  seemed 
to  win  the  other  scale.  Even  so  niv  father  had  been,  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  civil  war,  when  he  was  less  than  my  age 
now,  and  even  less  skilled  in  politics :  and  my  mother  told  me 
after  this,  when  she  saw  how  1  myself  was  doubting,  and  vexed 
with  myself  for  doing  so,  that  my  father  used  to  thank  God 
often,  that  he  had  not  been  called  upon  to  take  one  side  or 
other,  but  might  remain  obscure  and  quiet.  And  yet  he  always 
considered  himself  to  be  a  good  sound  Eoyalist. 

But  now  as  I  stayed  there,  only  desirous  to  be  heard  and  to 
get  away,  and  scarcely  even  guessing  yet  what  was  wanted  of 
me  (for  even  Jeremy  Stickles  knew  not,  or  pretended  not  to 
know),  things  came  to  a  dreadful  pass,  between  the  King  and 
all  the  people  who  dared  to  have  an  opinion.  Eor  about  the 
middle  of  June,  the  judges  gave  their  sentence,  that  the  City 
of  London  had  forfeited  its  charter,  and  that  its  franchise 
should  be  taken  into  the  hands  of  the  King.  Scarcely  was  this 
judgment  forth,  and  all  men  hotly  talking  of  it,  when  a  far 
worse  thing  befell.  Kews  of  some  great  conspiracy  v\'as  sj^read 
at  every  corner,  and  that  a  man  in  the  malting  business  had 
tried  to  take  up  the  brewer's  work,  and  lop  the  King,  and  the 
Duke  of  York.  Every  body  was  shocked  at  this,  for  the  King 
himself  was  not  disliked  so  much  as  his  advisers;  but  every 
body  was  more  than  shocked,  grieved  indeed  to  the  heart  with 
pain,  at  hearing  that  Lord  William  Russell,  and  Mr.  Algernon 
Sidney,  had  been  seized  and  sent  to  the  Tower  of  London,  upon 
a  charge  of  high  treason. 

Having  no  knowledge  of  these  great  men,  nor  of  the  matter 
how  far  it  was  true,  I  had  not  very  much  to  say  about  either 
them  or  it:  but  this  silence  was  not  shared  (although  the  igno- 
rance may  have  been)  by  the  hundreds  of  people  around  me. 
Such  a  commotion  was  astir,  such  universal  sense  of  wrong, 
and  stern  resolve  to  right  it,  that  each  man  grasped  his  fellow's 
hand,  and  led  him  into  the  vintner's.  Even  I,  altliough  at 
that  time  given  to  excess  in  temperance,  and  afraid  of  tlie  name 

VOL.  I.  —  11 


162  LOBNA  DOONE. 

of  cordials,  was  hard  set  (I  do  assure  you)  uot  to  be  drunk  at 
intervals,  without  coarse  discourtesy. 

However  tliat  (as  Betty  Muxworthy  used  to  say,  when  argued 
down,  and  ready  to  take  the  luop  lor  it)  is  neither  here  nor 
there.  I  have  nought  to  do  with  great  history;  and  am  sorry 
for  those  who  have  to  write  it;  because  they  are  sure  to  have 
both  friends  and  enemies  in  it,  and  cannot  act  as  they  would 
towards  them,  Avithout  damage  to  their  own  consciences. 

But  as  great  events  draw  little  ones,  and  the  rattle  of  the 
churn  decides  the  uncertainty  of  the  flies,  so  this  movement  of 
the  town,  and  eloquence,  and  passion  had  more  than  I  guessed 
at  the  time,  to  do  with  my  own  little  fortunes.  For  in  the 
first  place  it  Avas  fixed  (perhaps  from  downright  contumely, 
because  the  citizens  loved  him  so)  that  Lord  Eussell  should  be 
tried  neither  at  Westminster,  nor  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  but  at  the 
Court  of  Old  Bailey,  within  the  precincts  of  the  city.  This 
kept  me  hanging  on  much  longer;  because  although  the  good 
nobleman  was  to  be  tried  by  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  yet 
the  officers  of  the  King's  Bench,  to  whom  I  daily  applied  myself, 
were  in  counsel  with  their  fellows,  and  put  me  oft'  from  day  to 
day. 

Now  I  had  heard  of  the  law's  delays,  which  the  greatest  of 
all  great  poets  (knowing  much  of  the  law  himself,  as  indeed 
of  every  thing)  has  specially  mentioned,  when  not  expected, 
among  the  many  ills  of  life.  But  I  never  thought  at  my  years 
to  have  such  bitter  experience  of  the  evil ;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  if  the  lawyers  failed  to  do  their  duty,  they  ought  to  pay 
people  for  waiting  upon  them,  instead  of  making  them  pay  for 
it.  But  here  I  was,  now  in  the  second  month,  living  at  my 
own  charges,  in  the  house  of  a  worthy  fellmonger  at  the  sign 
of  the  Seal  and  Squirrel,  abutting  upon  the  Strand  road,  which 
leads  from  Temple  Bar  to  Charing.  Here  I  did  very  well 
indeed,  having  a  mattrass  of  good  skin-dressings,  and  plenty 
to  eat  every  day  of  my  life,  but  the  butter  was  something  to 
cry  "but"  thrice  at  (according  to  a  conceit  of  our  schooldays), 
and  the  milk  must  have  come  from  cows  driven  to  water. 
However,  these  evils  were  light  compared  with  the  heavy  bill 
sent  up  to  me,  every  Saturday  afternoon;  and  knowing  how 
ni}^  mother  had  pinched  to  send  me  nobly  to  London,  and  had 
told  me  to  spare  for  nothing,  but  live  bravely  with  the  best  of 
them,  the  tears  very  nearly  came  into  my  eyes,  as  I  thought, 
while  I  ate,  of  so  robbing  her. 

At  length,  being  quite  at  the  end  of  my  money,  and  seeing 
no  other  help  for  it,  I  determined  to  listen  to  clerks  no  more, 


-    A   GEE  AT  MAN  ATTENDS   TO  BUSINESS.  163 

but  force  my  way  up  to  the  Justices,  and  insist  upon  being 
heard  by  them,  or  discharged  from  my  recognizance.  For  so 
they  had  termed  the  bond  or  deed  which  I  liad  been  forced  to 
execute,  in  the  presence  of  a  chief  clerk  or  notary,  the  very 
day  after  I  came  to  London.  And  the  purport  of  it  was,  that 
on  pain  of  a  heavy  fine  or  esclieatment,  I  woukl  hold  myself 
ready  and  present,  to  give  evidence  when  called  upon.  Hav- 
ing delivered  me  up  to  sign  this,  Jeremy  Stickles  was  quit  of 
me,  and  went  upon  other  business ;  not  but  what  he  was  kind 
and  good  to  me,  when  his  time  and  pursuits  allowed  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    GREAT    MAN    ATTENDS    TO    BUSINESS. 

Having  seen  Lord  Russell  murdered  in  the  fields  of  Lincoln's 
Inn,  or  rather  having  gone  to  see  it,  but  turned  away,  with  a 
sickness  and  a  bitterflood  of  tears  —  for  a  whiter  and  a  nobler 
neck  never  fell  before  low  beast  —  I  strode  away  towards  West- 
minster, cured  of  half  my  indignation  at  the  death  of  Charles 
the  First.  Many  people  hurried  past  me,  chiefly  of  the  more 
tender  sort,  revolting  at  the  butchery.  In  their  ghastly  faces, 
as  they  turned  them  back,  lest  the  sight  should  be  coming  after 
them,  great  sorrow  was  to  be  seen,  and  horror,  and  pity,  and 
some  anger. 

In  Westminster  Hall  I  found  nobody;  not  even  the  crowd  of 
crawling  varlets,  who  used  to  be  craving  evermore  for  employ- 
ment or  for  payment.  I  knocked  at  three  doors,  one  after 
other,  of  lobbies  going  out  of  it,  where  I  had  formerly  seen  some 
officers  and  people  pressing  in  and  out;  but  for  my  trouble  I 
took  nothing,  except  sonui  thumps  from  echo.  And  at  last  an 
old  man  told  me,  that  all  the  lawyers  were  gone  to  see  the 
result  of  their  own  works,  in  the  fields  of  Lincoln's  Inn. 

However,  in  a  few  days'  time,  I  had  better  fortune;  for  the 
court  was  sitting  and  full  of  business,  to  clear  off  the  arrears 
of  work  before  the  lawyers'  holiday.  As  I  was  waiting  in  the 
hall  for  a  good  occasion,  a  man  with  liorsehair  on  his  head,  and 
a  long  blue  bag  in  his  left  hand,  touched  me  gently  on  the  arm, 
and  led  me  into  a  quiet  place.  I  followed  him  very  gladly, 
being  confident  tluit  he  came  to  me  with  a  message  from  the 
Justitiaries.  lint  after  taking  pains  to  be  sure  that  none  could 
overhear  us,  he  turned  on  me  suddenly,  and  asked  — 

"Now,  John,  how  is  your  dear  mother?" 


164  LORNA   BOONE. 

"Worshipful  sir,"  I  answered  him,  after  recovering  from 
my  surprise  at  his  knowledge  of  our  affairs,  and  kindly  interest 
in  them,  "  it  is  two  months  now  since  I  have  seen  her.  Would 
to  God  that  I  only  knew  how  she  is  faring  now,  and  how  the 
business  of  the  farm  goes !  " 

"  Sir,  I  respect  and  admire  you,"  the  old  gentleman  replied, 
with  a  bow  very  low  and  genteel ;  "  few  young  court-gallants 
of  our  time  are  so  reverent  and  dutiful.  Oh,  how  I  did  love 
my  mother!  "  Here  he  turned  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  in  a  man- 
ner that  made  me  feel  for  him ;  and  yet  with  a  kind  of  wonder. 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  sir,"  I  answered  most  respect- 
fully, not  meaning  to  trespass  on  his  grief,  yet  wondering  at 
his  mother's  age;  for  he  seemed  to  be  at  least  three-score: 
''but  I  am  no  court-gallant,  sir;  I  am  only  a  farmer's  son,  and 
learning  how  to  farm  a  little." 

"Enough,  John;  quite  enough,"  he  cried,  "I  can  read  it  in 
thy  countenance.  Honesty  is  written  there,  and  courage,  and 
simplicity.  But  I  fear  that,  in  this  town  of  London,  thou  art 
apt  to  be  taken  in  by  people  of  no  principle.  Ah  me !  Ah 
me!     The  world  is  bad,  and  I  am  too  old  to  improve  it." 

Then  finding  him  so  good  and  kind,  and  anxious  to  improve 
the  age,  I  told  him  almost  every  thing;  how  much  I  paid  the 
fellmonger,  and  all  the  things  I  had  been  to  see;  and  how  I 
longed  to  get  away,  before  the  corn  was  ripening;  yet  how  (in 
spite  of  these  desires)  I  felt  myself  bound  to  walk  up  and  down, 
being  under  a  thing  called  "recognizance."  In  short  I  told 
him  every  thing;  except  the  nature  of  my  summons  (which  I 
had  no  right  to  tell),  and  that  I  was  out  of  money. 

My  tale  was  told  in  a  little  archway,  apart  from  other  law- 
yers ;  and  the  other  lawyers  seemed  to  me  to  shift  themselves, 
and  to  look  askew,  like  sheep  through  a  hurdle,  when  the  rest 
are  feeding. 

"What!  Good  God!"  my  lawyer  cried,  smiting  his  breast 
indignantly  with  a  roll  of  something  learned;  "  In  what  coun- 
try do  we  live?  Under  what  laws  are  we  governed?  No  case 
before  the  court  whatever;  no  primary  deposition,  so  far  as  we 
are  furnished;  not  even  a  King's  writ  issued  —  and  here  we 
have  a  fine  young  man  dragged  from  his  home  and  adoring 
mother,  diiring  the  height  of  agriculture,  at  his  own  cost  and 
charges !  I  have  heard  of  many  grievances ;  but  this  the  very 
worst  of  all.  Nothing  short  of  a  Royal  Commission  could 
be  warranty  for  it.  This  is  not  only  illegal,  sir,  but  most 
gravely  unconstitutional." 

"  I  had  not  told  you,  worthy  sir,"  I  answered  him,  in  a  lower 


A    GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS    TO  BUSINESS.  165 

tone,  "  if  I  could  have  thought  that  your  sense  of  right  would 
be  moved  so  painfully.  But  now  I  must  beg  to  leave  you,  sir, 
—  for  I  see  that  the  door  again  is  open.  I  beg  you,  worship- 
ful sir,  to  accept  " 

Upon  this  he  put  forth  his  hand  and  said,  "  iS'ay,  nay,  my 
son,  not  two,  not  two : "  yet  looking  away,  that  he  might  not 
scare  me. 

"To  accept,  kind  sir,  my  very  best  thanks,  and  most  re- 
spectful remembrances."  And  with  that,  I  laid  my  hand  in 
his.  "And  if,  sir,  any  circumstances  of  business  or  of  pleas- 
ure should  bring  you  to  our  part  of  the  world,  I  trust  you  will 
not  forget  that  my  mother  and  myself  (if  ever  I  get  home 
again)  will  do  our  best  to  make  you  comfortable  with  our  poor 
hospitality." 

With  this  I  was  hasting  away  from  him,  but  he  held  my  hand 
and  looked  round  at  me.    And  he  spoke  without  cordiality. 

"  Young  man,  a  general  invitation  is  no  entry  for  my  fee 
book.  I  have  spent  a  good  hour  of  business-time  in  master- 
ing thy  case,  and  stating  my  opinion  of  it.  And  being  a 
member  of  the  bar,  called  six-and-thirty  years  agone  by  the 
honorable  society  of  the  Inner  Temple,  my  fee  is  at  my  own 
discretion;  albeit  an  honorarium.  For  the  honor  of  the  pro- 
fession, and  my  position  in  it,  I  ought  to  charge  thee  at  least 
five  guineas,  although  I  would  have  accepted  one,  offered  with 
good  will  and  delicacy.  Now  I  will  enter  it  two,  my  son,  and 
half-a-crown  for  my  clerk's  fee." 

Saying  this,  he  drew  forth  from  his  deep,  blue  bag,  a  red 
book  having  clasps  to  it,  and  endorsed  in  gold  letters  "Fee 
Book;"  and  before  I  could  speak  (being  frightened  so)  he  had 
entered  on  a  page  of  it,  "  To  consideration  of  case  as  stated 
by  John  Ridd,  and  advising  thereupon,  two  guineas." 

"But  sir,  good  sir,"  I  stammered  forth,  not  having  two 
guineas  left  in  the  world,  yet  grieving  to  confess  it,  "  1  knew 
not  that  I  was  to  pay,  learned  sir.  I  never  thought  of  it  in 
that  way." 

"  Wounds  of  God !  In  what  way  thought  you  that  a  lawyer 
listened  to  your  rigmarole  ?  " 

"I  thought  that  you  listened  from  kindness,  sir,  and  com- 
passion of  my  grievous  case,  and  a  sort  of  liking  for  me." 

"  A  lawyer  like  thee,  young  curmudgeon !  A  lawyer  afford 
to  feel  compassion  gratis!  Either  tliou  art  a  very  deep  knave, 
or  the  greenest  of  all  greenliorns.  Well,  I  suppose,  I  must  let 
thee  otf  for  one  guinea,  and  the  clerk's  fee.  A  bad  business, 
a  shocking  business!  " 


166  LORNA  DOONE. 

Now,  if  this  man  had  continued  kind  and  soft,  as  when  he 
heard  my  story,  I  would  have  pawned  my  clothes  to  pay  him, 
rather  than  leave  a  debt  behind,  although  contracted  unwit- 
tingly. But  when  he  used  harsh  language  so,  knowing  that  I 
did  not  deserve  it,  I  began  to  doubt  within  myself  whether  he 
deserved  my  money.  Therefore  I  answered  him  with  some 
readiness,  such  as  comes  sometimes  to  me,  although  I  am  so 
slow. 

"Sir,  I  am  no  curmudgeon:  if  a  young  man  had  called  me 
so,  it  would  not  have  been  well  with  him.  This  money  shall 
be  paid,  if  due;  albeit  I  had  no  desire  to  incur  the  debt.  You 
have  advised  me  that  the  Court  is  liable  for  my  expenses,  so 
far  as  they  be  reasonable.  If  this  be  a  reasonable  expense, 
come  with  me  now  to  Lord  Justice  Jeffreys,  and  receive  from 
him  the  two  guineas,  or  (it  may  be)  five,  for  the  counsel  you 
have  given  me  to  deny  his  jurisdiction."  With  these  words, 
I  took  his  arm  to  lead  him,  for  the  door  was  open  still. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  boy,  let  me  go.  Worthy  sir,  pray  let 
me  go.  My  wife  is  sick,  and  my  daughter  dying  —  in  the 
name  of  God,  sir,  let  me  go." 

"  Nay,  nay, "  I  said,  having  fast  hold  of  him ;  "  I  cannot  let 
thee  go  unpaid,  sir.     Right  is  right;  and  thou  shalt  have  it." 

"  Ruin  is  what  I  shall  have,  boy,  if  you  drag  me  before  that 
devil.  He  will  strike  me  from  the  bar  at  once,  and  starve  me, 
and  all  my  family.  Here  lad,  good  lad,  take  these  two 
guineas.  Thou  hast  despoiled  the  spoiler.  Never  again  will 
I  trust  mine  eyes  for  knowledge  of  a  greenhorn. " 

He  slipped  two  guineas  into  the  hand  which  I  had  hooked 
through  his  elbow,  and  spoke  in  an  urgent  whisper  again,  for 
the  people  came  crowding  around  us  —  "  For  God's  sake,  let 
me  go,  boy;  another  moment  will  be  too  late." 

"Learned  sir,"  I  answered  him,  "twice  you  spoke,  unless  I 
err,  of  the  necessity  of  a  clerk's  fee,  as  a  thing  to  be  lamented." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  son.  You  have  a  clerk  as  much 
as  I  have.  There  it  is.  Now  I  pray  thee,  take  to  the  study 
of  the  law.  Possession  is  nine  points  of  it,  which  thou  hast 
of  me.  Self-possession  is  the  tenth,  and  that  thou  hast  more 
than  the  other  nine." 

Being  flattered  by  this,  and  by  the  feeling  of  the  two  guineas 
and  half-crown,  I  dropped  my  hold  upon  Counsellor  Kitch  (for 
he  was  no  less  a  man  than  that),  and  he  was  out  of  sight  in  a 
second  of  time,  wig,  blue  bag,  and  family.  And  before  I  had 
time  to  make  up  my  mind  what  I  should  do  with  his  money 
(for  of  course  I  meant  not  to  keep  it)  the  crier  of  the  Court  (as 


In    iHk.sAWb    ui-  Gou,    SIR,    Ltr    mk    go!"  — Vi>I.    1.    p.    i66. 


A   GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS   TO  BUSINESS.  167 

they  told  me)  came  out,  and  wanted  to  know  who  I  was.  1 
tokl  him,  as  shortly  as  I  could,  that  my  business  lay  with  His 
Majesty's  bench,  and  was  very  confidential;  upon  which  he 
took  me  inside  with  warning,  and  showed  me  to  an  under- 
clerk,  who  showed  me  to  a  higher  one,  and  the  higher  clerk  to 
the  head  one. 

When  this  gentleman  understood  all  about  my  business 
(which  I  told  liim  without  complaint)  he  frowned  at  me  very 
heavily,  as  if  I  had  done  him  an  injury. 

"John  Ridd,"  he  asked  me  witli  a  stern  glauce,  "is  it  your 
deliberate  desire  to  be  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice  ?  " 

"  Surely,  sir,  it  has  been  my  desire,  for  the  last  two  months 
and  more." 

"Then,  John,  thou  shalt  be.  But  mind  one  thing,  not  a 
word  of  thy  long  detention,  or  thou  mayest  get  into  trouble." 

"  How,  sir  ?  For  being  detained  against  my  own  wish  ?  "  I 
asked  him;  but  he  turned  away,  as  if  that  matter  were  not 
worth  his  arguing,  as,  indeed,  I  suppose  it  was  not,  and  led 
me  through  a  little  passage  to  a  door  Avith  a  curtain  across  it. 

"Now,  if  my  Lord  cross-question  you,"  the  gentleman  whis- 
pered to  me,  "  answer  him  straight  out  truth  at  once,  for  he 
will  have  it  out  of  thee.  And  mind,  he  loves  not  to  be  con- 
tradicted, neitlier  can  he  bear  a  hang-dog  look.  Take  little 
heed  of  the  other  two;  but  note  every  word  of  the  middle  one; 
and  never  make  him  speak  twice." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  good  advice,  as  he  moved  the  curtain 
and  thrust  me  in,  but  instead  of  entering  withdrew,  and  left 
me  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it. 

The  chamber  was  not  very  large,  though  lofty  to  my  eyes, 
and  dark,  with  wooden  panels  round  it.  At  the  further  end 
were  some  raised  seats,  sucli  as  I  have  seen  in  churches,  lined 
with  velvet,  and  having  broad  elbows,  and  a  canopy  over  the 
middle  seat.  There  were  only  three  men  sitting  here,  one  in 
the  centre,  and  one  on  each  side;  and  all  three  were  done  up 
wonderfully  with  fur,  and  robes  of  state,  and  curls  of  thick 
gray  horse-Iiair,  crimped  and  gatlici'cd,  and  ])]ait('d  down  to 
their  slioulders.  Eacli  man  iiad  an  oak  desk  before  him,  set 
at  a  little  distance,  and  spread  with  pens  and  papers.  Instead 
of  writing,  however,  they  seemed  to  be  laugliing  and  talking, 
or  ratlier  the  one  in  the  middle  seemed  to  be  t(dling  some 
good  story,  which  the  others  received  witli  a])proval.  By 
reason  of  tlieir  great  j)ei'ukes,  it  was  hard  to  tell  how  old  they 
were;  but  the   one  who  was  speaking   seemed  the  youngest, 


168  LOBNA   BOONE. 

although  he  was  the  chief  of  them.  A  thick-set,  burly,  and 
bulky  man,  with  a  blotchy  broad  face,  and  great  square  jaws, 
and  fierce  eyes  full  of  blazes;  he  was  one  to  be  dreaded  by 
gentle  souls,  and  to  be  abhorred  by  the  noble. 

Between  me  and  the  three  lord  judges,  some  few  lawyers 
were  gathering  up  bags  and  papers  and  pens  and  so  forth, 
from  a  narrow  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room ;  as  if  a  case 
had  been  disposed  of,  and  no  other  were  called  on.  But 
before  I  had  time  to  look  round  twice,  the  stout  fierce  man 
espied  me,  and  shouted  out  with  a  flashing  stare, — 

"  How  now,  countryman,  who  art  thou  ?  " 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered  him,  loudly,  "I 
am  John  Eidd,  of  Oare  parish,  in  the  county  of  Somerset, 
brought  to  this  London,  some  two  months  back  by  a  special 
messenger,  whose  name  is  Jeremy  Stickles;  and  then  bound 
over  to  be  at  hand  and  ready,  when  called  upon  to  give  evi- 
dence, in  a  matter  unknown  to  me,  but  touching  the  peace  of 
our  lord  the  King,  and  the  well-being  of  his  subjects.  Three 
times  I  have  met  our  lord  the  King,  but  he  hath  said  nothing 
about  his  peace,  and  only  held  it  towards  me;  and  every  day 
save  Sunday,  I  have  walked  up  and  down  the  great  hall  of 
Westminster,  all  the  business  part  of  the  day,  expecting  to 
be  called  upon ;  yet  no  one  hath  called  upon  me.  And  now  I 
desire  to  ask  your  worship,  whether  I  may  go  home  again  ?  " 

"Well  done,  John,"  replied  his  lordship,  while  I  was  pant- 
ing with  all  this  speech ;  "  I  will  go  bail  for  thee,  John,  thou 
hast  never  made  such  a  long  speech  before;  and  thou  art  a 
spunky  Briton,  or  thou  couldst  not  have  made  it  now.  I 
remember  the  matter  well;  and  I  myself  will  attend  to  it, 
although  it  arose  before  my  time  "  —  he  was  but  newly  Chief 
Justice  —  "but  I  cannot  take  it  now,  John.  There  is  no  fear 
of  losing  thee,  John,  any  more  than  the  Tower  of  London.  I 
grieve  for  His  Majesty's  exchequer,  after  keeping  thee  two 
months  or  more." 

"Nay,  my  lord,  I  crave  your  pardon.  My  mother  hath  been 
keeping  me.     Not  a  groat  have  I  received." 

"  Spank,  is  it  so  ?  "  his  lordshij)  cried,  in  a  voice  that  shook 
the  cobwebs ;  and  the  frown  on  his  brow  shook  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  mine  as  much  as  the  rest  of  them,  —  "  Spank,  is  His 
Majesty  come  to  this,  that  he  starves  his  own  approvers  ?  " 

"My  lord,  my  lord,"  whispered  Mr.  Spank,  the  chief-officer 
of  evidence,  "  the  thing  hath  been  overlooked,  my  lord,  among 
such  grave  matters  of  treason." 

"I  will  overlook  thy  head,  foul  Spank,  on  a  spike   from 


A    GEE  AT  MAN  ATTENDS    TO  BUSINESS.  169 

Temple  Bar,  if  ever  I  hear  of  the  like  again.  Vile  varlet, 
what  art  thou  paid  for?  Thou  hast  swindled  the  money  thy- 
self, foul  Spank;  I  know  thee,  though  thou  art  new  to  me. 
Bitter  is  the  day  for  thee  that  ever  I  came  across  thee. 
Answer  me  not  —  one  word  more,  and  I  will  have  thee  on  a 
hurdle."  And  he  swung  himself  to  and  fro,  on  his  bench, 
with  both  hands  on  his  knees;  and  every  man  waited  to  let  it 
pass,  knowing  better  than  to  speak  to  him. 

"John  Ridd,"  said  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  at  last,  recover- 
ing a  sort  of  dignity,  yet  daring  Spank  from  the  corners  of  his 
eyes  to  do  so  much  as  look  at  him,  "thou  hast  been  shame- 
fully used,  John  Ridd.  Answer  me  not,  boy ;  not  a  word ;  but 
go  to  Master  Spank,  and  let  me  know  how  he  behaves  to 
thee;"  here  he  made  a  glance  at  Spank,  which  was  worth  at 
least  ten  pounds  to  me ;  "  be  thou  here  again  to-morrow ;  and 
before  any  other  case  is  taken,  I  will  see  justice  done  to  thee. 
Now  be  off,  boy;  thy  name  is  Ridd,  and  we  are  well  rid  of 
thee." 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  go,  after  all  this  tempest ;  as  you  may 
well  suppose.  For  if  ever  I  saw  a  man's  eyes  become  two 
holes  for  the  devil  to  glare  from,  I  saw  it  that  day ;  and  the 
eyes  were  those  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  Jeffreys. 

Mr.  Spank  was  in  the  lobby  before  me,  and  before  I  had 
recovered  myself  — for  I  was  vexed  with  my  own  terror  —  he 
came  up  sidling  and  fawning  to  me,  with  a  heavy  bag  of  yellow 
leather. 

"  Good  Master  Ridd,  take  it  all,  take  it  all ;  and  say  a  good 
word  for  me  to  his  lordship.  He  hath  taken  a  strange  fancy 
to  thee ;  and  thou  must  make  the  most  of  it.  We  never  saw 
man  meet  him  eye  to  eye  so,  and  yet  not  contradict  him;  and 
tliat  is  just  what  he  loveth.  Abide  in  London,  Master  Ridd, 
and  he  will  make  thy  fortune.  His  joke  upon  thy  name  proves 
that.  And  I  pray  you  remember,  Master  Ridd,  that  the 
Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family." 

But  I  would  not  take  the  bag  from  him,  regarding  it  as  a 
sort  of  bribe  to  pay  me  such  a  lump  of  money,  without  so  much 
as  asking  how  great  liad  Iwcn  my  expenses.  Therefore  I  only 
told  him  that  if  he  would  kindly  keep  the  cash  for  me  until 
the  morrow,  I  would  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  in  counting 
fwhich  always  is  sore  work  with  me)  how  niucli  it  liad  stood 
me  in  board  and  lodging,  since  Master  Stickles  had  rend(!red 
me  up;  for  until  that  time  he  had  borne  my  expenses.  Li  the 
morning  I  would  give  Mr.  Spank  a  memorandum  duly  signed, 
and  attested  by  my  landlord,  including  the  breakfast  of  tliat 


170  LORN  A   BOONE. 

day,  and  in  exchange  for  this  I  would  take  the  exact  amount 
from  the  yellow  bag,  and  be  very  thankful  for  it. 

"If  that  is  thy  way  of  using  opportunity,"  said  Spank,  look- 
ing at  me  with  some  contempt,  "thou  wilt  never  thrive  in 
these  times,  my  lad.  Even  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  can  be 
little  help  to  thee ;  unless  thou  knowest  better  than  that  how 
to  help  thyself." 

It  mattered  not  to  me.  The  word  "  approver  "  stuck  in  my 
gorge,  as  used  by  the  Lord  Chief  Justice ;  for  we  looked  upon 
an  approver  as  a  very  low  thing  indeed.  I  would  rather  pay 
for  every  breakfast,  and  even  every  dinner,  eaten  by  me  since 
here  I  came,  than  take  money  as  an  approver.  And  indeed 
I  was  much  disappointed  at  being  taken  in  that  light,  hav- 
ing understood  that  I  was  sent  for  as  a  trusty  subject,  and 
humble  friend  of  His  Majesty. 

In  the  morning,  I  met  Mr.  Spank  waiting  for  me  at  the 
entrance,  and  very  desirous  to  see  me.  I  showed  him  my  bill, 
made  out  in  fair  copy,  and  he  laughed  at  it,  and  said,  "  Take 
it  twice  over,  Master  Ridd;  once  for  thine  own  sake,  and 
once  for  His  Majesty's;  as  all  his  loyal  tradesmen  do,  when 
they  can  get  any.  His  Majesty  knows  and  is  proud  of  it,  for 
it  shows  their  love  of  his  countenance;  and  he  says,  ^his  dat 
qui  cito  dat, '  then  how  can  I  grumble  at  giving  twice,  when  I 
give  so  slowly  ?  " 

"Nay,  I  will  take  it  but  once,"  I  said;  "if  His  Majesty 
loves  to  be  robbed,  he  need  not  lack  of  his  desire,  while  the 
Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family." 

The  clerk  smiled  cheerfully  at  this,  being  proud  of  his  chil- 
dren's ability;  and  then  having  paid  my  account,  he  whis- 
pered,— 

"He  is  all  alone  this  morning,  John,  and  in  rare  good 
humor.  He  hath  been  promised  the  handling  of  poor  Master 
Algernon  Sidney,  and  he  says  he  will  soon  make  republic  of 
him;  for  his  state  shall  shortly  be  headless.  He  is  chuckling 
over  his  joke,  like  a  pig  with  a  nut;  and  that  always  makes 
him  pleasant.  John  Ridd,  my  lord!  "  With  that  he  swung 
up  the  curtain  bravely;  and  according  to  special  orders,  I 
stood,  face  to  face,  and  alone  with  Judge  Jeffreys. 


JOHN  IS  DRAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  171 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

JOHN   IS    DRAINED    AND    CAST   ASIDE. 

His  lordship  was  busy  with  some  letters,  and  did  not  look 
up  for  a  minute  or  two,  although  he  knew  that  I  was  there. 
Meanwhile  I  stood  waiting  to  make  my  bow;  afraid  to  begin 
upon  him,  and  wondering  at  his  great  bull-head.  Then  he 
closed  his  letters,  well-pleased  with  their  import,  and  fixed 
his  bold  broad  stare  on  me,  as  if  I  were  an  oyster  opened,  and 
he  would  know  how  fresh  I  was. 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  said,  "here  I  am  according 
to  order,  awaiting  your  good  pleasure." 

"  Thou  art  made  to  weight,  John,  more  than  order.  How 
much  dost  thou  tip  the  scales  to?  " 

"  Only  twelvescore  pounds,  my  lord,  when  I  be  in  wrestling 
trim.  And  sure  I  must  have  lost  weight  here,  fretting  so  long 
in  London." 

"Ha,  ha!  Much  fret  is  there  in  thee!  Hath  His  Majesty 
seen  thee?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  twice  or  even  thrice ;  and  he  made  some  jest 
concerning  me." 

"  A  very  bad  one,  I  doubt  not.  His  humor  is  not  so  dainty 
as  mine,  but  apt  to  be  coarse  and  unmannerly.  Now  John, 
or  Jack,  by  the  look  of  thee,  thou  art  more  used  to  be  called." 

"  Yes,  your  worship,  when  I  am  with  old  Molly,  and  Betty 
Muxworthy." 

"  Peace,  thou  forward  varlet !  There  is  a  deal  too  much  of 
thee.  We  shall  have  to  try  short  commons  with  thee,  and 
thou  art  a  very  long  common.  Ha,  ha!  where  is  that  rogue 
Spank?  Spank  must  hear  that  by-and-by.  It  is  beyond  thy 
great  thick  head,  Jack." 

"  Not  so,  my  lord ;  I  have  been  at  school,  and  had  very  bad 
jokes  made  upon  me." 

"Ha,  ha!  It  hath  hit  thee  hard.  And  faith,  it  would  be 
hard  to  miss  thee,  even  with  harpoon.  And  thou  lookest  like 
to  blubber,  now.  Capital,  in  faith!  I  liave  thee  on  every 
side,  Jack,  and  thy  sides  are  manifold;  many -folded  at  any 
rate.  Tliou  shalt  have  double  expenses.  Jack,  for  the  wit 
thou  hast  provoked  in  me." 

"  Heavy  goods  lack  heavy  payment,  is  a  proverb  down  our 
way,  my  lord." 


172  LOBNA   BOONE. 

*' Ah,  I  hurt  thee,  I  hurt  thee,  Jack.  The  harpoon  hath  no 
tickle  for  thee.  Now,  Jack  Whale,  having  hauled  thee  hard, 
we  will  proceed  to  examine  thee."  Here  all  his  manner  was 
changed,  and  he  looked  with  his  heavy  brows  bent  upon  me, 
as  if  he  had  never  laughed  in  his  life,  and  would  allow  none 
else  to  do  so. 

"I  am  ready  to  answer  my  lord,"  I  replied,  "if  he  asks  me 
naught  beyond  my  knowledge,  or  beyond  my  honor." 

"Hadst  better  answer  me  every  thing,  lump.  What  hast 
thou  to  do  with  honor  ?  Kow  is  there  in  thy  neighborhood  a 
certain  nest  of  robbers,  miscreants,  and  outlaws,  whom  all 
men  fear  to  handle  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  lord.  At  least  I  believe  some  of  them  be  rob- 
bers; and  all  of  them  are  outlaws." 

"  And  what  is  your  high  sheriff  about,  that  he  doth  not  hang 
them  all  ?  Or  send  them  up  for  me  to  hang,  without  more 
to-do  about  them  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  that  he  is  afraid,  my  lord ;  it  is  not  safe  to  med- 
dle with  them.  They  are  of  good  birth,  and  reckless;  and 
their  place  is  very  strong." 

"  Good  birth !  What  was  Lord  Russell  of,  Lord  Essex,  and 
this  Sidney  ?  'Tis  the  surest  heirship  to  the  block,  to  be  the 
chip  of  an  old  one.  What  is  the  name  of  this  pestilent  race, 
and  how  many  of  them  are  there  ?  " 

"  They  are  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy  forest,  may  it  please 
your  worship.  And  we  reckon  there  be  about  forty  of  them, 
beside  the  women  and  children." 

"  Forty  Doones,  all  forty  thieves !  and  women  and  children ! 
Thunder  of  God!     How  long  have  they  been  there  then  ?  " 

"  They  may  have  been  there  thirty  years,  my  lord ;  and  in- 
deed they  may  have  been  forty.  Before  the  great  war  broke 
out  they  came,  longer  back  than  I  can  remember." 

"Ay,  long  before  thou  Avast  born,  John.  Good,  thou  speak- 
est  plainly.  Woe  betide  a  liar,  whenso  I  get  hold  of  him. 
Ye  want  me  on  the  Western  Circuit;  by  God,  and  ye  shall 
have  me,  when  London  traitors  are  spun  and  swung.  There 
is  a  family  called  De  Whichehalse  living  very  nigh  thee, 
John  ?  " 

This  he  said  in  a  sudden  manner,  as  if  to  take  me  off  my 
guard,  and  fixed  his  great  thick  eyes  on  me.  And  in  truth  I 
was  much  astonished. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  there  is.  At  least,  not  so  very  far  from  us. 
Baron  de  Whichehalse,  of  Ley  Manor." 

" Baron,  ha!  of  the  Exchequer  —  eh,  lad  ?     And  taketh  dues 


JOHN  IS  BRAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  173 

instead  of  His  Majesty.  Somewhat  which  halts  tliere  ought 
to  come  a  little  further,  I  trow.  It  shall  be  seen  to,  as  well 
as  the  witch  which  makes  it  so  to  halt.  Kiotous  knaves  in 
West  England,  drunken  outlaws,  you  shall  dance,  if  ever  I  play 
pipe  for  you.  John  Kidd,  I  will  come  to  Oare  Parish,  and 
rout  out  the  Oare  of  Babylon. " 

"Although  your  worship  is  so  learned,"  I  answered,  seeing 
that  now  he  was  beginning  to  make  things  uneasy;  "your 
worship,  thougli  being  Chief  Justice,  does  little  justice  to  us. 
We  are  downright  good  and  loyal  folk;  and  I  have  not  seen, 
since  here  I  came  to  this  great  town  of  London,  any  who  may 
better  us,  or  even  come  anigh  us,  in  honesty,  and  goodness, 
and  duty  to  our  neighbors.  For  we  are  very  quiet  folk,  not 
prating  our  own  virtues  " 

"Enough,  good  John,  enough!  Knowest  thou  not  that 
modesty  is  the  maidenhood  of  virtue,  lost  even  by  her  own 
approval  ?  Noav  hast  thou  ever  heard  or  thought,  that  De 
Whichehalse  is  in  league  with  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy  ?  " 

Saying  these  words  rather  slowly,  he  skewered  his  great 
eyes  into  mine,  so  that  I  could  not  think  at  all,  neither  look 
at  him,  nor  yet  away.  The  idea  was  so  new  to  me,  that  it  set 
my  wits  all  wandering;  and  looking  into  me,  he  saw  that  I 
was  groping  for  the  truth. 

"John  Ridd,  thine  eyes  are  enough  for  me.  I  see  thou  hast 
never  dreamed  of  it.  Now  hast  thou  ever  seen  a  man,  whose 
name  is  Thomas  Faggus  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  many  and  many  a  time.     He  is  my  own  worthy 

cousin;  and  I  fear  that  he  hath  intentions  " here  I  stopped, 

having  no  right  there  to  speak  about  our  Annie. 

"Tom  Faggus  is  a  good  man,"  he  said;  and  his  great  square 
face  had  a  smile  which  showed  me  he  had  met  my  cousin; 
"  Master  Faggus  hath  made  mistakes  as  to  the  title  to  prop- 
erty, as  lawyers  oftentimes  may  do;  but  take  him  all  for  all, 
he  is  a  thoroughly  straightforward  man;  presents  his  bill,  and 
has  it  paid,  and  makes  no  charge  for  drawing  it.  Neverthe- 
less, we  must  tax  his  costs,  as  of  any  other  solicitor." 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  lord!  "  was  all  that  I  could  say, 
not  understanding  what  all  this  meant. 

"I  fear  he  will  come  to  the  gallows,"  said  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice,  sinking  his  voice  below  the  echoes;  "tell  him  this 
from  me,  Jack.  He  shall  never  be  condemned  before  me;  but 
I  cannot  Ije  everywhere;  and  some  of  our  Justices  may  keep 
sliort  memory  of  liis  dinners.  T<;11  liim  to  change  his  name, 
turn  parson,  i)v  do  sfjiiictliing  els(!,  to  make  it  wrong  to  hang 


174  LORNA   BOONE. 

him.  Parson  is  the  best  thing;  he  hath  such  command  of 
features,  and  he  might  take  his  tithes  on  horseback.  Now  a 
few  more  things,  John  Ridd;  and  for  the  present  I  have  done 
with  thee." 

All  my  heart  leaped  up  at  this,  to  get  away  from  London  so : 
and  yet  I  could  hardly  trust  to  it. 

"  Is  there  any  sound  round  your  way  of  disaffection  to  His 
Majesty,  His  most  gracious  Majesty  ?  " 

"No,  my  lord:  no  sign  whatever.  We  pray  for  him  in 
church  perhaps ;  and  we  talk  about  him  afterwards,  hoping  it 
may  do  him  good,  as  it  is  intended.  But  after  that  we  have 
naught  to  say,  not  knowing  much  about  him  —  at  least  till  I  get 
home  again." 

"That  is  as  it  should  be,  John.  And  the  less  you  say  the 
better.  But  I  have  heard  of  things  in  Taunton,  and  even 
nearer  to  you  in  Dulverton,  and  even  nigher  still  upon  Exmoor; 
things  which  are  of  the  pillory  kind,  and  even  more  of  the  gal- 
lows. I  see  that  you  know  naught  of  them.  Nevertheless,  it 
will  not  be  long  before  all  England  hears  of  them.  Now,  John, 
I  have  taken  a  liking  to  thee;  for  never  man  told  me  the  truth, 
without  fear  or  favor,  more  thoroughly  and  truly  than  thou 
hast  done.  Keep  thou  clear  of  this,  my  son.  It  will  come  to 
nothing;  yet  many  shall  swing  high  for  it.  Even  I  could  not 
save  thee,  John  liidd,  if  thou  wert  mixed  in  this  affair.  Keep 
from  the  Doones,  keep  from  De  Whichehalse,  keep  from  every- 
thing which  leads  beyond  the  sight  of  thy  knowledge.  I  meant 
to  use  thee  as  my  tool;  but  I  see  thou  art  too  honest  and 
simple.  I  will  send  a  sharper  down;  but  never  let  me  find 
thee,  John,  either  a  tool  for  the  other  side,  or  a  tube  for  my 
words  to  pass  through." 

Here  the  Lord  Justice  gave  me  such  a  glare,  that  I  wished 
myself  well  rid  of  him,  though  thankful  for  his  warnings;  and 
seeing  how  he  had  made  upon  me  a  long  abiding  mark  of  fear, 
he  smiled  again  in  a  jocular  manner,  and  said, — 

"  Now,  get  thee  gone.  Jack.  I  shall  remember  thee ;  and  I 
trow,  thou  wilt'st  not  for  many  a  day  forget  me." 

"  My  lord,  I  was  never  so  glad  to  go ;  for  the  hay  must  be 
in,  and  the  ricks  unthatched,  and  none  of  them  can  make  spars 
like  me,  and  two  men  to  twist  every  hay-rope,  and  mother 
thinking  it  all  right,  and  listening  right  and  left  to  lies,  and 
cheated  at  every  pig  she  kills,  and  even  the  skins  of  the  sheep 
to  go  " 

"John  Ridd,  I  thoiight  none  could  come  nigh  your  folk,  in 
honesty  and  goodness,  and  duty  to  their  neighbors !  " 


JOHN  IS   DRAINED  AND   CAST  ASIDE.  175 

"  Sure  enough,  my  lord ;  but  by  our  folk,  I  mean  ourselves, 
not  the  men  nor  women  neither  " 

"  That  will  do,  John.  Go  thy  way.  Not  men,  nor  women 
neither,  are  better  than  they  need  be." 

I  wished  to  set  this  matter  right;  but  his  worship  would  not 
hear  me ;  and  only  drove  me  out  of  the  court,  saying  that  men 
were  thieves  and  liars,  nor  more  in  one  place  than  another, 
but  all  alike  all  over  the  world,  and  women  not  far  behind 
them.  It  was  not  for  me  to  dispute  this  point  (though  I  was 
not  yet  persuaded  of  it),  both  because  my  lord  was  a  Judge, 
and  must  know  more  about  it,  and  also  that  being  a  man  myself 
I  might  seem  to  be  defending  myself  in  an  unbecoming  man- 
ner. Therefore  I  made  a  low  bow,  and  went;  in  doubt  as  to 
which  had  the  riglit  of  it. 

But  though  he  had  so  far  dismissed  me,  I  was  not  yet  quite 
free  to  go,  inasmuch  as  I  had  not  money  enough  to  take  me  all 
the  way  to  Oare,  unless  indeed  I  should  go  afoot,  and  beg  my 
sustenance  by  the  way,  Avldch  seemed  to  be  below  me.  There- 
fore I  got  my  few  clothes  packed,  and  my  few  debts  paid,  all 
ready  to  start  in  half-an-hour,  if  only  they  would  give  me 
enough  to  set  out  upon  the  road  Avith.  For  I  doubted  not,  being 
young  and  strong,  that  I  could  walk  from  London  to  Oare  in 
ten  days  or  in  twelve  at  most,  which  was  not  much  longer  than 
horse-work ;  only  I  had  been  a  fool,  as  you  will  say  when  you 
hear  it.  For  after  receiving  from  Master  Spank  the  amount  of 
the  bill  which  I  had  delivered  —  less  indeed  by  fifty  shillings 
than  the  money  my  mother  had  given  me,  for  I  had  spent  fifty 
shillings,  and  more,  in  seeing  the  town  and  treating  people, 
which  I  could  not  charge  to  His  Majesty  —  I  had  first  paid  all 
my  debts  thereout,  which  were  not  very  many,  and  then  sup- 
posing myself  to  be  an  established  creditor  of  the  Treasury 
for  my  coming  needs,  and  already  scenting  the  country  air,  and 
foreseeing  the  joy  of  my  mother,  what  had  I  done  but  spent  half 
my  balance,  ay  and  more  than  three-quarters  of  it,  upon  pres- 
ents for  mother,  and  Annie,  and  Lizzie,  John  Fry,  and  his  wife, 
and  Betty  Muxwortliy,  J>ill  Dadds,  Jim  Sloeombe,  and,  in  a 
word,  half  of  the  rest  of  the  people  at  Oare,  including  all  the 
Snowe  family,  wlio  must  have  things  good  and  liaiidsome? 
And  if  I  must  while  I  am  about  it  hide  nothing  from  those  who 
read  me,  I  had  actually  bought  for  Lorna  a  thing  the  price  of 
which  quite  friglitened  me,  till  the  shop-keeper  said  it  was 
nothing  at  all,  and  that  no  young  man,  with  a  lady  to  love  him, 
could  dare  to  offer  her  rubbisli,  such  as  the  Jew  sold  across  the 
way.     Now  Ijhe  mere  idea  of  beautiful  Lorna  ever  loving  me, 


176  LORN  A   BOONE. 

which  he  talked  abovit  as  pally  (though  of  course  I  never  men- 
tioned her)  as  if  it  were  a  settled  thing,  and  he  knevv^  all  about 
it,  that  mere  idea  so  drove  me  abroad,  that  if  he  had  asked 
three  times  as  much,  I  could  never  have  counted  the  money. 

Now  in  all  this  I  was  a  fool  of  course  —  not  for  remember- 
ing my  friends  and  neighbors,  Avhich  a  man  has  a  right  to  do, 
and  indeed  is  bound  to  do,  when  he  comes  from  London  —  but 
for  not  being  certified  first,  what  cash  I  had  to  go  on  with. 
And  to  my  great  amazement,  when  I  Avent  with  another  bill 
for  the  victuals  of  only  three  days  more,  and  a  week's  expense 
on  the  homeward  road  reckoned  very  narrowly.  Master  Spank 
not  only  refused  to  grant  me  any  interview,  but  sent  me  out  a 
piece  of  blue  paper,  looking  like  a  butcher's  ticket,  and  bearing 
these  words  and  no  more,  "John  Eidd,  go  to  the  devil.  He 
who  will  not  when  he  may,  when  he  will,  he  shall  have  nay." 
From  this  I  concluded  that  I  had  lost  favor  in  the  sight  of 
Chief  Justice  Jeffreys.  Perhaps  because  my  evidence  had  not 
proved  of  any  value ;  perhaps  because  he  meant  to  let  the  mat- 
ter lie,  till  cast  on  him. 

Anyhow,  it  was  a  reason  of  much  grief,  and  some  anger,  to 
me,  and  very  great  anxiety,  disappointment,  and  suspense. 
For  here  was  the  time  of  the  hay  gone  past,  and  the  harvest  of 
small  corn  coming  on,  and  the  trout  now  rising  at  the  yellow 
Sally,  and  the  blackbirds  eating  our  white-heart  cherries  (I 
was  sure,  though  I  could  not  see  them),  and  who  was  to  do  any 
good  for  mother,  or  stop  her  from  weeping  continually?  And 
more  than  this,  what  was  become  of  Lorna?  Perhaps  she  had 
cast  me  away  altogether,  as  a  flouter  and  a  changeling;  per- 
haps she  had  drowned  herself  in  the  black  well ;  perhaps  (and 
that  was  worst  of  all)  she  was  even  married,  child  as  she  was, 
to  that  vile  Carver  Doone,  if  the  Doones  ever  cared  about 
marrying !  That  last  thought  sent  me  down  at  once  to  watch 
for  Mr.  Spank  again,  resolved  that  if  I  could  catch  him,  spank 
him  I  would  to  a  pretty  good  tune,  although  sixteen  in  family. 

However,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  to  find  him ;  and  the 
usher  vowed  (liaving  orders  I  doubt)  that  he  was  gone  to  the 
sea  for  the  good  of  his  health,  having  sadly  overworked  him- 
self; and  that  none  but  a  poor  devil  like  himself,  who  never 
had  handling  of  money,  would  stay  in  London  this  foul,  hot 
weather;  which  was  likely  to  bring  the  plague  with  it.  Here 
was  another  new  terror  for  me,  who  had  heard  of  the  plagues 
of  London,  and  the  horrible  things  that  happened;  and  so  going 
back  to  my  lodgings  at  once,  I  opened  my  clothes  and  sought 
for  spots,  especially  as  being  so  long  at  a  hairy  fellmonger's; 


JOHN   IS  DRAINED   AND    CAST  ASIDE.  177 

but  iinding  none,  I  fell  down  and  thanked  God  for  that  same, 
and  vowed  to  start  for  Oare  to-morrow,  with  my  carbine  loaded, 
come  weal  come  woe,  come  sun  come  shoAver;  though  all  the 
parish  should  laugh  at  me,  for  begging  my  way  liome  again, 
after  the  brave  things  said  of  my  going,  as  if  I  had  been  the 
King's  cousin. 

But  I  was  saved  in  some  degree  from  this  lowering  of  my 
pride,  and  what  mattered  more,  of  mother's;  for  going  to  buy 
with  my  last  crown-piece  (after  all  demands  were  paid)  a  little 
shot  and  powder,  more  needful  on  the  road  almost  than  even 
shoes  or  victuals,  at  the  corner  of  the  street  I  met  my  good 
friend  Jeremy  Stickles,  newly  come  in  search  of  me.  I  took 
him  back  to  my  little  room  —  mine  at  least  till  to-morrow 
morning  —  and  told  him  all  my  story,  and  how  much  I  felt 
aggrieved  by  it.  But  he  surprised  me  very  much,  by  showing 
no  surprise  at  all. 

"  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Jack.  They  have  gotten  all 
they  can  from  thee,  and  why  should  they  feed  thee  further? 
We  feed  not  a  dead  pig,  I  trow,  but  baste  him  well  with  brine 
and  rue.  Nay,  we  do  not  victual  him  upon  the  day  of  killing; 
which  they  have  done  to  thee.  Thou  art  a  lucky  man,  John; 
thou  hast  gotten  one  day's  wages,  or  at  any  rate  half  a  day, 
after  thy  work  was  rendered.  God  have  mercy  on  me,  John! 
The  things  I  see  are  manifold;  and  so  is  my  regard  of  them. 
What  use  to  insist  on  this,  or  make  a  special  point  of  that,  or 
hold  by  something  said  of  old,  when  a  different  mood  was  on? 
I  tell  thee.  Jack,  all  men  are  liars ;  and  he  is  the  least  one,  who 
presses  not  too  hard  on  them  for  lying." 

This  was  all  quite  dark  to  me,  for  I  never  looked  at  things 
like  that,  and  never  would  own  myself  a  liar,  not  at  least  to 
other  people,  nor  even  to  myself,  although  I  might  to  God  some- 
times, when  trouble  was  upon  me.  And  if  it  comes  to  that, 
no  man  has  any  right  to  be  called  a  "liar"  for  smoothing  over 
things  unwitting,  throiigh  duty  to  liis  neighbor. 

"Five  pounds  thou  shalt  have,  Jack,"  said  Jeremy  Stickles 
suddenly,  while  I  was  all  abroad  with  myself  as  to  being  a  liar 
or  not;  "five  pounds,  and  I  will  take  my  chance  of  wringing 
it  from  that  great  rogue  Spank.  Ten  1  would  have  made  it, 
John,  but  for  bad  luck  lately.  Put  back  your  bits  of  paper, 
lad;  I  will  have  no  acknowledgment.  John  Ridd,  no  nonsense 
with  me !  " 

For  I  was  ready  to  kiss  his  hand,  to  tliink  that  any  man  in 
London  (the  meanest  and  most  suspicious  place,  upon  all  God's 
earth)  sliould  trust  me  with  five  pounds,  without  even  a  receipt 

VOL.  I. — 12 


178  LOENA   BOONE. 

for  it!  It  overcame  me  so  that  I  sobbed;  for,  after  all,  though 
big  in  body,  I  am  but  a  child  at  heart.  It  was  not  the  five 
pounds  that  moved  me,  but  the  way  of  giving  it;  and  after  so 
much  bitter  talk,  the  great  trust  in  my  goodness. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 

HOME   AGAIN   AT   LAST. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  wheat-harvest,  when  I  came  to  Dun- 
ster  town,  having  walked  all  the  way  from  London,  and  being 
somewhat  footsore.  ¥or  though  five  pounds  was  enough  to 
keep  me  in  food  and  lodging  upon  the  road,  and  leave  me  many 
a  shilling  to  give  to  far  poorer  travellers,  it  would  have  been 
nothing  for  horse-hire,  as  I  knew  too  well  by  the  prices  Jeremy 
Stickles  had  paid,  upon  our  way  to  London.  Now  I  never 
saw  a  prettier  town  than  Dunster  looked  that  evening ;  for  sooth 
to  say,  I  had  almost  lost  all  hope  of  reaching  it  that  night, 
although  the  castle  was  long  in  view.  But  being  once  there 
my  troubles  were  gone,  at  least  as  regarded  wayfaring;  for 
mother's  cousin,  the  worthy  tanner  (with  whom  we  had  slept 
on  the  way  to  London),  was  in  such  indignation  at  the  plight 
in  which  I  came  back  to  him,  afoot,  and  weary,  and  almost 
shoeless  —  not  to  speak  of  upper  things  —  that  he  swore  then, 
by  the  mercy  of  God,  that  if  the  schemes  abrewing  round  him, 
against  those  bloody  Papists,  should  come  to  any  head  or  shape, 
and  show  good  chance  of  succeeding,  he  would  risk  a  thousand 
pounds,  as  though  it  were  a  penny. 

I  told  him  not  to  do  it,  because  I  had  heard  otherwise,  but 
was  not  at  liberty  to  tell  one-tenth  of  what  I  knew,  and  indeed 
had  seen  in  London  town.  But  of  this  he  took  no  heed,  because 
I  only  nodded  at  him ;  and  he  could  not  make  it  out.  For  it 
takes  an  old  man,  or  at  least  a  middle-aged  one,  to  nod  and 
wink,  with  any  power  on  the  brains  of  other  men.  However, 
I  tliink  I  made  him  know  that  the  bad  state  in  which  I  came 
to  his  town,  and  the  great  shame  I  had  wrought  for  him  among 
the  folk  round  the  card-table  at  the  "  Luttrell  Arms, "  was  not 
to  be,  even  there,  attributed  to  King  Charles  the  Second,  nor 
even  to  his  counsellors,  but  to  my  oavu  speed  of  travelling, 
which  had  beat  post-horses.  For  being  much  distraught  in 
mind,  and  desperate  in  body,  I  had  made  all  the  way  from 
London  to  Dunster  in  six  days,  and  no  more.     It  may  be  one 


HOME  AGAIN  AT  LAST.  179 

hundred  and  seventy  miles,  I  cannot  tell  to  a  furlong  or  two, 
especially  as  I  lost  my  way  more  than  a  dozen  times ;  but  at 
any  rate  there  in  six  days  I  was,  and  most  kindly  they  received 
me.  The  tanner  had  some  excellent  daughters,  I  forget  how 
many;  very  pretty  damsels,  and  well  set  up,  and  able  to  make 
good  tanner's  pie.  But  though  they  asked  me  many  questions, 
and  made  a  sort  of  lord  of  me,  and  offered  to  darn  my  stock- 
ings (which  in  truth  required  it),  I  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of 
them,  although  I  vv'ould  not  acknowledge  it;  and  they  said, 
"  Poor  cousin!  he  is  weary;  "  and  led  me  to  a  blessed  bed,  and 
kissed  me  all  round  like  swan's  down. 

In  the  morning  all  the  Exmoor  hills,  the  thoughts  of  which 
had  frightened  me  at  the  end  of  each  day's  travel,  seemed  no 
more  than  bushels  to  me,  as  I  looked  forth  the  bedroom  win- 
dow, and  thanked  God  for  the  sight  of  them.  And  even  so,  I 
had  not  to  climb  them,  at  least  by  my  own  labor.  For  my 
most  worthy  uncle  (as  we  often  call  a  parent's  cousin),  finding 
it  impossible  to  keep  me  for  the  day,  and  owning  indeed  that 
I  was  right  in  hastening  to  my  mother,  vowed  that  walk  I 
should  not,  even  though  he  lost  his  Saturday  hides  from  Mine- 
head  and  from  Watchett.  Accordingly  he  sent  me  forth  on 
the  very  strongest  nag  he  had,  and  the  maidens  came  to  wish 
me  God  speed,  and  kissed  their  hands  at  the  doorway.  It  made 
me  proud  and  glad  to  think,  that  after  seeing  so  much  of  the 
world,  and  having  held  my  own  with  it,  I  was  come  once  more 
among  my  own  people,  and  found  them  kinder,  and  more  warm- 
hearted, ay  and  better-looking  too,  than  almost  any  I  had  hap- 
pened upon  in  the  mighty  city  of  London. 

But  how  shall  I  tell  you  the  things  I  felt,  and  the  swelling 
of  my  heart  within  me,  as  I  drew  nearer,  and  more  near,  to  the 
place  of  all  I  loved  and  owned,  to  the  haunt  of  every  warm  re- 
membrance, the  nest  of  all  the  fledgeling  hopes  —  in  a  word,  to 
home?  The  first  sheep  I  beheld  on  the  moor  with  a  great  red 
J.  R.  on  his  side  (for  mother  would  have  them  marked  with  my 
name,  instead  of  her  own  as  they  should  have  been)  I  do  assure 
you  my  spirit  leaped,  and  all  my  sight  came  to  my  eyes.  I 
shouted  out,  "Jem,  boy!  "  —  for  that  was  his  name,  and  a  rare 
hand  he  was  at  fighting  —  and  he  knew  me  in  spite  of  the  stran- 
ger horse;  and  I  leaned  over,  and  stroked  his  head,  and  swore 
he  should  never  be  mutton.  And  when  I  was  passed,  he  set 
off  at  full  gallop,  to  call  all  the  rest  of  the  J.  K.'s  together,  and 
tell  tlicin  young  master  was  corner  home  at  last. 

lint  l)less  your  heart,  and  my  own  as  well,  it  would  take  me 
all  tlie  afternoon  to  lay  before  you  one-tenth  of  the  things  which 


180  LORNA  BOONE. 

came  home  to  me  in  that  one  half-hour,  as  the  sun  was  sinking, 
in  the  real  way  he  ought  to  sink.  I  touched  my  horse  with 
no  spur  nor  whip,  feeling  that  my  slow  wits  would  go,  if  the 
sights  came  too  fast  over  them.  Here  was  the  pool  where  we 
washed  the  sheep  and  there  was  the  hollow  that  oozed  away, 
where  I  had  shot  three  wild  ducks.  Here  was  the  peat-rick 
that  hid  my  dinner,  when  I  could  not  go  home  for  it,  and  there 
was  the  bush  with  the  thyme  growing  round  it,  where  Annie 
had  found  a  great  SAvarm  of  our  bees.  And  now  was  the  corner 
of  the  dry  stone  wall,  where  the  moor  gave  over  in  earnest, 
and  the  partridges  whisked  from  it  into  the  corn  lands,  and 
called  that  their  supper  was  ready,  and  looked  at  our  house 
and  the  ricks  as  they  ran,  and  would  wait  for  that  comfort  till 
winter. 

And  there  I  saw  —  but  let  me  go  —  Annie  was  too  much  for 
me.  She  nearly  pulled  me  off  my  horse,  and  kissed  the  very 
mouth  of  the  carbine. 

"I  knew  you  would  come.  Oh  John!  Oh  John!  I  have 
waited  here  every  Saturday  night;  and  I  saw  you  for  the  last 
mile  or  more,  but  I  would  not  come  round  the  corner,  for  fear 
that  I  should  cry,  John ;  and  then  not  cry  when  I  got  you. 
Now  I  may  cry  as  much  as  I  like,  and  you  need  not  try  to  stop 
me,  John,  because  I  am  so  happy.  But  you  mustn't  cry  your- 
self, John;  what  will  mother  think  of  you?  She  will  be  so 
jealous  of  me." 

What  mother  thought  I  cannot  tell ;  and  indeed  I  doubt  if 
she  thought  at  all  for  more  than  half-an-hour,  but  only  man- 
aged to  hold  me  tight,  and  cry,  and  thank  God  now  and  then; 
but  with  some  fear  of  His  taking  me,  if  she  should  be  too 
grateful.  Moreover  she  thought  it  was  my  own  doing,  and  I 
ought  to  have  the  credit  of  it,  and  she  even  came  down  very 
sharply  upon  John's  wife,  Mrs.  Fry,  for  saying  that  we  must 
not  be  too  proud,  for  all  of  it  was  the  Lord's  doing.  However, 
dear  mother  was  ashamed  of  that  afterwards,  and  asked  Mrs. 
Fry's  humble  pardon;  and  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  men- 
tioned it. 

Old  Smiler  had  told  them  that  I  was  coming  —  all  the  rest 
I  mean  except  Annie  —  for  having  escaped  from  his  halter- 
ring,  he  was  come  out  to  graze  in  the  lane  a  bit;  when  what 
should  he  see  but  a  strange  horse  coming,  with  young  master 
and  mistress  upon  him,  for  Annie  must  needs  get  up  behind 
me,  there  being  only  sheep  to  look  at  her?  Then  Smiler  gave 
us  a  stare  and  a  neigh,  with  his  tail  quite  stiff  with  amazement, 
and  then  (whether  in  joy,  or  through  indignation)  he  flung  up 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LOBNA.  181 

his  hind  feet,  and  galloped  straight  home,  and  set  every  dog 
wild  with  barking. 

Now,  methinks,  quite  enough  has  been  said  concerning  this 
mighty  return  of  tlie  young  John  Ridd  (which  was  known  up 
at  Cosgate  that  evening),  and  feeling  that  I  cannot  describe 
it,  how  can  I  hope  that  any  one  else  will  labor  to  imagine  it, 
even  of  the  few  who  are  able?  For  very  few  can  have  travelled 
so  far,  unless  indeed  they  whose  trade  it  is,  or  very  unsettled 
people.  And  even  of  those  who  have  done  so,  not  one  in  a 
hundred  can  have  such  a  home  as  I  had  to  come  home  to. 

Mother  wept  again,  with  grief  and  some  wrath,  and  so  did 
Annie  also,  and  even  little  Eliza,  and  all  were  unsettled  in 
loyalty,  and  talked  about  a  republic,  when  I  told  them  how  I 
had  been  left  without  money  for  travelling  homeward,  and 
expected  to  have  to  beg  my  way,  which  Farmer  Snowe  would 
have  heard  of.  And  though  I  could  see  they  were  disappointed 
at  my  failure  of  any  promotion,  they  all  declared  how  glad 
they  were,  and  how  much  better  they  liked  me  to  be  no  more 
than  what  they  were  accustomed  to.  At  least,  my  mother  and 
Annie  said  so,  without  waiting  to  hear  any  more ;  but  Lizzie 
did  not  answer  to  it,  mitil  I  had  opened  my  bag  and  shown  the 
beautiful  present  I  had  for  her.  And  then  she  kissed  me, 
almost  like  Annie,  and  vowed  that  she  thought  very  little  of 
captains. 

For  Lizzie's  present  was  the  best  of  all,  I  mean  of  course 
except  Lorna's  (which  I  carried  in  my  breast  all  the  way,  hop- 
ing that  it  might  make  her  love  me,  from  having  lain  so  long, 
close  to  my  heart).  For  I  had  brought  Lizzie  something  dear, 
and  a  yjrecious  heavy  book  it  was,  and  much  beyond  my  under- 
standing: whereas  I  kncAV  well  that  to  both  the  others  my 
gifts  would  be  dear  for  mine  own  sake.  And  happier  people 
could  not  be  found,  than  the  whole  of  us  were  that  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

JOHN    HAS    HOPE    OF    LORNA. 

Much  as  I  longed  to  know  more  about  Lorna,  and  though  all 
my  lu-art  was  yearning,  T  could  not  reconcile  it  y(^t  with  my 
fluty  to  mother  and  Annie,  to  leave  them  on  the  following  day, 
which  happened  to  be  a  Sunday.  For  lo,  before  broakiast  was 
out  of  our  mouths,  there  came  all  the  men  of  the  farm,  and 


182  LORN  A    DOONE. 

their  wives,  and  even  the  two  crow-boys,  dressed  as  if  going 
to  Barnstaple  fair,  to  inquire  how  Master  John  was,  and  whether 
it  was  true  that  the  King  had  made  him  one  of  his  body-guard ; 
and  if  so,  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  belt  for  the  champion- 
ship of  the  West-Counties'  wrestling,  which  I  had  held  now 
for  a  year  or  more,  and  none  were  ready  to  challenge  it. 
Strange  to  say,  this  last  point  seemed  the  most  important  of 
all  to  them;  and  none  asked  who  was  to  manage  the  farm,  or 
answer  for  their  wages;  but  all  asked  who  was  to  wear  the  belt. 

To  this  I  replied,  after  shaking  hands  twice  over  all  round 
with  all  of  them,  that  I  meant  to  wear  the  belt  myself,  for  the 
honor  of  Oare  parish,  so  long  as  ever  God  gave  me  strength, 
and  health  to  meet  all  comers :  for  I  had  never  been  asked  to 
be  body-guard;  and  if  asked  I  would  never  have  done  it. 
Some  of  them  cried  that  the  King  must  be  mazed,  not  to  keep 
me  for  his  protection,  in  these  violent  times  of  Popery.  I 
could  have  told  them  that  the  King  was  not  in  the  least  afraid 
of  Papists,  but  on  the  contrary,  very  fond  of  them ;  however, 
I  held  my  tongue,  remembering  what  Judge  Jeffreys  bade  me. 

In  church,  the  whole  congregation,  man,  woman,  and  child 
(except  indeed  the  Snowe  girls,  who  only  looked  when  I  was 
not  watching),  turned  on  me  with  one  accord,  and  stared  so 
steadfastly,  to  get  some  reflection  of  the  King  from  me,  that 
they  forgot  the  time  to  kneel  down,  and  the  parson  was  forced 
to  speak  to  them.  If  I  coughed,  or  moved  my  book,  or  bowed, 
or  even  said  "Amen,"  glances  were  exchanged  which  meant 
—  "That  he  hath  learned  in  London  town,  and  most  likely 
from  His  Majesty." 

However,  all  this  went  off  in  time ;  and  people  became  even 
angry  with  me,  for  not  being  sharper  (as  they  said),  or  smarter, 
or  a  whit  more  fashionable,  for  all  the  great  company  I  had 
seen,  and  all  the  wondrous  things  wasted  upon  me. 

But  though  I  may  have  been  none  the  wiser  by  reason  of  my 
stay  in  London,  at  any  rate  I  was  much  the  better  in  virtue  of 
coming  home  again.  For  now  I  had  learned  the  joy  of  quiet, 
and  the  gratitude  for  good  things  round  us,  and  the  love  we 
owe  to  others  (even  those  who  must  be  kind),  for  their  indul- 
gence to  us.  All  this,  before  my  journey,  had  been  too  much 
as  a  matter  of  course  to  me ;  but  having  missed  it  now  I  knew 
that  it  was  a  gift,  and  might  be  lost.  Moreover,  I  had  pined  so 
much,  in  the  dust  and  heat  of  that  great  town,  for  trees,  and 
fields,  and  running  waters,  and  the  sounds  of  country  life,  and 
the  air  of  country  winds,  that  never  more  could  I  grow  weary 
of  those  soft  enjoyments;  or  at  least  I  thought  so  then. 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORN  A.  183 

To  awake  as  the  summer  sun  came  slanting  over  the  hill- 
tops, with  hope  on  every  beam  adance  to  the  laughter  of  the 
morning;  to  see  the  leaves  across  the  window  rufhing  on  the 
fresh  new  air,  and  the  tendrils  of  the  powdery  vine  turning 
from  their  beaded  sleep.  Then  the  lustrous  meadows  far 
beyond  the  thatch  of  the  garden-wall,  yet  seen  beneath  the 
hanging  scollops  of  the  walnut-tree,  all  awaking,  dressed  in 
pearl,  all  amazed  at  their  own  glistening,  like  a  maid  at  her 
own  ideas.  Down  them  troop  the  lowing  kine,  walking  each 
with  a  step  of  character  (even  as  men  and  women  do),  yet  all 
alike  with  toss  of  horns,  and  spread  of  udders  ready.  From 
them,  without  a  word,  we  turn  to  the  farm-yard  proper,  seen 
on  the  right,  and  dryly  strawed  from  the  petty  rush  of  the 
pitch-paved  runnel.  l\ound  it  stand  the  snug  outbuildings, 
barn,  corn-chamber,  cider-press,  stables,  with  a  blinker'd  horse 
in  every  doorway  munching,  while  his  driver  tightens  buckles, 
whistles  and  looks  down  the  lane,  dallying  to  begin  his  labor 
till  the  milkmaids  be  gone  by.  Here  the  cock  comes  forth  at 
last;  —  where  has  he  been  lingering?  —  eggs  may  tell  to-mor- 
row —  he  claps  his  wings  and  shouts  "  cock-a-doodle ;  "  and  no 
other  cock  dare  look  at  him.  Two  or  three  go  sidling  off,  wait- 
ing till  their  spurs  be  grown;  and  then  the  crowd  of  partlets 
comes,  chattering  how  their  lord  has  dreamed,  and  crowed  at 
two  in  the  morning,  and  praying  that  the  old  brown  rat  would 
only  dare  to  face  him.  But  while  the  cock  is  crowing  still,  and 
the  pullet  world  admiring  him,  who  comes  up  but  the  old 
turkey-cock,  with  all  his  family  round  him.  Then  the  geese 
at  the  lower  end  begin  to  thrust  their  breasts  out,  and  mum 
their  downbits,  and  look  at  the  gander,  and  scream  shrill  joy 
for  the  conflict;  while  the  ducks  in  pond  show  nothing  but  tail, 
in  proof  of  their  strict  neutrality. 

Wliile  yet  we  dread  for  the  coming  event,  and  the  fight  which 
would  jar  on  the  morning,  behold  the  grandmother  of  sows, 
gruffly  grunting,  right  and  left,  with  muzzle  which  no  ring  may 
tame  (not  being  matrimonial),  hulks  across  between  the  two, 
moving  all  each  side  at  once,  and  then  all  of  the  other  side,  as 
if  slie  were  chined  down  the  middle,  and  afraid  of  spilling  the 
salt  from  her.  As  tliis  mighty  view  of  lard  hides  each  comba- 
tant from  the  otlier,  gladly  each  retires,  and  boasts  how  he  would 
have  slain  liis  neighbor,  but  that  old  sow  drove  the  other  away, 
and  no  wonder  he  was  afraid  of  her,  after  all  the  chicks  she 
has  eaten. 

And  so  it  goes  on;  and  so  tlie  snn  comes,  stronger  from  his 
diink  of  dew;  and  the  cattle  in  the  byres,  and  the  horses  from 


184  LORNA  BOONE. 

the  stable,  and  the  men  from  cottage-door,  each  has  had  his 
rest  and  food,  all  smell  alike  of  hay  and  straw,  and  every  one 
must  hie  to  work,  be  it  drag,  or  draw,  or  delve. 

So  thought  I,  on  the  Monday  morning;  while  my  own  work 
lay  before  me,  and  I  was  plotting  how  to  quit  it,  void  of  harm 
to  every  one,  and  let  my  love  have  work  a  little  —  hardest  per- 
haps of  all  work,  and  yet  as  sure  as  sunrise.  I  knew  that  my 
first  day's  task  on  the  farm  Avould  be  strictly  watched  by  every 
one,  even  by  my  gentle  mother,  to  see  what  I  had  learned  in 
London.  But  could  I  let  still  another  day  pass,  for  Lorna  to 
think  me  faithless? 

I  felt  much  inclined  to  tell  dear  mother  all  about  Lorna,  and 
how  I  loved  her,  yet  had  no  hope  of  winning  her,-  Often  and 
often  I  had  longed  to  do  this,  and  have  done  with  it.  But  the 
thought  of  my  father's  terrible  death,  at  the  hands  of  the 
Doones,  prevented  me.  And  it  seemed  to  me  foolish  and  mean 
to  grieve  mother,  without  any  chance  of  my  suit  ever  speeding. 
If  once  Lorna  loved  me,  my  mother  should  know  it;  and  it 
would  be  the  greatest  happiness  to  me  to  have  no  concealment 
from  her,  though  at  first  she  Avas  sure  to  grieve  terribly.  But 
I  saw  no  more  chance  of  Lorna  loving  me,  than  of  the  man  in 
the  moon  coming  down ;  or  rather  of  the  moon  coming  down  to 
the  man,  as  related  in  old  mythology. 

Now  the  merriment  of  the  small  birds,  and  the  clear  voice 
of  the  waters,  and  the  lowing  of  cattle  in  meadows,  and  the 
view  of  no  houses  (except  just  our  own  and  a  neighbor's)  and 
the  knowledge  of  every  body  around,  their  kindness  of  heart, 
and  simplicity,  and  love  of  their  neighbor's  doings, —  all  these 
could  not  help  or  please  me  at  all,  and  many  of  them  were 
much  against  me,  in  my  secret  depth  of  longing,  and  dark 
tumult  of  the  mind.  Many  people  may  think  me  foolish, 
especially  after  coming  from  London,  where  many  nice  maids 
looked  at  me  (on  account  of  my  bulk  and  stature)  and  I  might 
have  been  fitted  up  with  a  sweetheart,  in  spite  of  my  west- 
country  twang,  and  the  smallness  of  my  purse ;  if  only  I  had 
said  the  word.  But  nay;  I  have  contempt  for  a  man  whose 
heart  is  like  a  shirt-stud  (such  as  I  saw  in  London  cards),  fitted 
into  one  to-day,  sitting  bravely  on  the  breast;  plucked  out  on 
the  morrow  morn,  and  the  place  that  knew  it,  gone. 

Now,  what  did  I  do  but  take  my  chance;  reckless  whether 
any  one  heeded  me  or  not,  only  craving  Lorna's  heed,  and  time 
for  ten  words  to  her.  Therefore  I  left  the  men  of  the  farm  as 
far  away  as  might  be,  after  making  them  work  with  me  (which 
no  man  round  our  parts  could  do,  to  his  own  satisfaction)  and 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORN  A.  185 

then  knowing  them  to  be  well  Aveary,  very  unlike  to  follow  me 

—  and  still  more  unlike  to  tell  of  me,  for  each  had  his  London 
present  —  I  strode  right  away,  in  good  trust  of  my  speed,  with- 
out an}'  more  misgivings ;  but  resolved  to  face  the  worst  of  it, 
and  to  try  to  be  home  for  supper. 

And  first  I  went,  I  know  not  why,  to  the  crest  of  the  broken 
higliland,  whence  I  had  agreed  to  watch  for  any  mark  or  signal. 
And  sure  enough  at  last  I  saw  (when  it  was  too  late  to  see)  that 
the  white  stone  had  been  covered  over  with  a  clotli  or  mantle, 

—  the  sign  that  something  had  arisen  to  make  Lorna  want  me. 
For  a  moment,  I  stood  amazed  at  my  evil  fortune ;  that  I  should 
be  too  late,  in  the  very  thing  of  all  things  on  which  my  heart 
was  set !  Then  after  eying  sorrowfully  every  crick  and  cranny, 
to  be  sure  that  not  a  single  flutter  of  my  love  was  visible,  off 
I  set,  with  small  respect  either  for  my  knees  or  neck,  to  make 
the  round  of  the  outer  cliffs,  and  come  up  my  old  access. 

Kothing  could  stop  me;  it  was  not  long,  althoiigh  to  me  it 
seemed  an  age,  before  I  stood  in  the  niche  of  rock  at  the  head 
of  the  slippery  watercourse,  and  gazed  into  the  quiet  glen, 
where  my  foolish  heart  was  dwelling.  Notwithstanding  doubts 
of  right,  notwithstanding  sense  of  duty,  and  despite  all  manly 
striving,  and  the  great  love  of  my  home,  there  my  heart  was 
ever  dwelling,  knowing  what  a  fool  it  was,  and  content  to 
know  it. 

j\Iany  birds  came  twittering  round  me  in  the  gold  of  August; 
many  trees  showed  twinkling  beauty,  as  the  sun  went  lower; 
and  the  lines  of  water  fell,  from  wrinkles  into  dimples.  Little 
heeding,  there  I  crouched;  though  with  sense  of  everything 
that  afterwards  should  move  me,  like  a  picture  or  a  dream; 
and  every  thing  went  by  me  softly,  while  my  heart  was  gazing. 

At  last,  a  little  figure  came,  not  insignificant  (I  mean),  but 
looking  very  light  and  slender  in  the  moving  shadows,  gently 
here  and  softly  there,  as  if  vague  of  purj^ose,  with  a  gloss  of 
tender  movement,  in  and  out  the  wealth  of  trees,  and  liberty 
of  the  meadow.  Who  was  I  to  crouch,  or  doubt,  or  look  at 
her  from  a  distance;  what  matter  if  they  killed  me  now,  an 
one  tear  came  to  bury  me  ?  Therefore  I  rushed  out  at  once, 
as  if  sliot-guns  were  unknown  yet;  not  from  any  real  courage, 
but  i'rcjm  prisoned  love  burst  forth. 

I  know  not  whether  my  own  Lorna  was  afraid  of  what  I 
looked,  or  wliat  I  might  say  to  her,  or  of  her  own  thoughts  of 
me:  all  I  know  is  that  she  looked  frightened,  when  1  hoped 
for  gladness.  Perliaps  the  power  of  my  joy  was  more  than 
maiden  liked  to  own,  or  in  any  way  to  answer  to;  and  to  tell 


186  LORNA   BOONE. 

the  truth,  it  seemed  as  if  I  might  now  forget  myself;  while 
she  would  take  good  care  of  it.  This  makes  a  man  grow 
thoughtful;  unless  as  some  low  fellows  do,  he  believe  all 
women  hypocrites. 

Therefore  I  went  slowly  towards  her,  taken  back  in  my 
impulse ;  and  said  all  I  could  come  to  say,  with  some  distress 
in  doing  it. 

"Mistress  Lorna,  I  had  hope  that  you  were  in  need  of  me." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  that  was  long  ago ;  two  months  ago,  or 
more,  sir."  And  saying  this  she  looked  away,  as  if  it  all 
were  over.  But  I  was  now  so  dazed  and  frightened,  that  it 
took  my  breath  away,  and  I  could  not  answer,  feeling  sure 
that  I  was  robbed,  and  some  one  else  had  won  her.  And  I 
tried  to  turn  away,  without  another  word,  and  go. 

But  I  could  not  help  one  stupid  sob,  though  mad  with  my- 
self for  allowing  it,  but  it  came  too  sharp  for  pride  to  stay  it, 
and  it  told  a  world  of  things.  Lorna  heard  it,  and  ran  to  me, 
with  her  bright  eyes  full  of  wonder,  pity,  and  great  kindness, 
as  if  amazed  that  I  had  more  than  a  simple  liking  for  her.  Then 
she  held  out  both  hands  to  me;  and  I  took  and  looked  at  them. 

"  Master  Ridd,  I  did  not  mean, "  she  whispered,  very  softly, 
"I  did  not  mean  to  vex  you." 

"  If  you  would  be  loth  to  vex  me,  none  else  in  this  world 
can  do  it,"  I  answered  out  of  my  great  love,  but  fearing  yet 
to  look  at  her,  mine  eyes  not  being  strong  enough. 

"Come  away  from  this  bright  place,"  she  answered,  trem- 
bling in  her  turn;  "I  am  watched  and  spied  of  late.  Come 
beneath  the  shadows,  John." 

I  would  have  leaped  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death 
(as  described  by  the  late  John  Bunyan),  only  to  hear  her  call 
me  "  John ;  "  though  Apollyon  were  lurking  there,  and  Despair 
should  lock  me  in. 

She  stole  across  the  silent  grass;  but  I  strode  hotly  after 
her ;  fear  was  all  beyond  me  now,  except  the  fear  of  losing  her. 
I  could  not  but  behold  her  manner,  as  she  went  before  me,  all 
her  grace,  and  lovely  sweetness,  and  her  sense  of  what  she  was. 

She  led  me  to  her  own  rich  bower,  which  I  told  of  once 
before;  and  if  in  spring  it  were  a  sight,  what  was  it  in 
summer  glory?  But  although  my  mind  had  notice  of  its  fair- 
ness and  its  wonder,  not  a  heed  my  heart  took  of  it,  neither 
dwelt  it  in  my  presence  more  than  flowing  water.  All  that 
in  my  presence  dwelt,  all  that  in  my  heart  was  felt,  was  the 
maiden  moving  gently,  and  afraid  to  look  at  me. 

For  now  the  power  of  my  love  was  abiding  on  her,  new  to 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE   OF  LORN  A.  187 

her,  unknown  to  her;  not  a  thing  to  speak  about,  nor  even  to 
think  clearly;  only  just  to  feel  and  wonder,  with  a  pain  of 
sweetness.  She  could  look  at  me  no  more,  neither  could  she 
look  away,  with  a  studied  manner  —  only  to  let  fall  her  eyes, 
and  blush,  and  be  put  out  with  me,  and  still  more  with 
herself. 

I  left  her  quite  alone ;  though  close,  though  tingling  to  have 
hold  of  her.  Even  her  right  hand  was  dropped,  and  lay  among 
the  mosses.  Neither  did  I  try  to  steal  one  glimpse  below  her 
eyelids.  Life  and  death  were  hanging  on  the  first  glance  I 
should  win;  yet  I  let  it  be  so. 

After  long  or  short  —  I  know  not,  yet  ere  I  was  weary,  ere 
I  yet  began  to  think  or  wish  for  any  answer  —  Lorna  slowly 
raised  her  eyelids,  with  a  gleam  of  dew  below  them,  and  looked 
at  me  doubtfully.  Any  look  with  so  much  in  it  never  met  my 
gaze  before. 

"  Darling,  do  you  love  me  ? "  was  all  that  I  could  say 
to  her. 

"  Yes,  I  like  you  very  much, "  she  answered,  with  her  eyes 
gone  from  me,  and  her  dark  hair  falling  over,  so  as  not  to 
show  me  things. 

"  But  do  you  love  me,  Lorna,  Lorna ;  do  you  love  me  more 
than  all  the  world  ?  " 

"  Xo,  to  be  sure  not.     Now  why  should  I  ?  " 

"  In  truth,  I  know  not  why  you  should.  Only  I  hoped  that 
you  did,  Lorna.  Either  love  me  not  at  all,  or  as  I  love  you, 
for  ever." 

"  John,  I  love  you  very  much ;  and  I  would  not  grieve  you. 
You  are  the  bravest,  and  the  kindest,  and  the  simplest  of  all 
men  —  I  mean  of  all  people  —  I  like  you  very  much,  Master 
Ridd,  and  I  think  of  you  almost  every  day." 

"  That  will  not  do  for  me,  Lorna.  Not  almost  every  day  I 
think,  but  every  instant  of  my  life,  of  you.  For  you  I  would 
give  up  my  home,  my  love  of  all  the  world  beside,  my  duty  to 
my  dearest  ones;  for  you  I  would  give  up  my  life,  and  hope 
of  life  beyond  it.     Do  you  love  me  so  ?  " 

"Not  by  any  means,"  said  Lorna;  "no;  T  like  yon  very 
much,  when  you  do  not  talk  so  wildly;  and  I  like  to  see  you 
come  as  if  you  would  fill  our  valley  up,  and  I  like  to  think  that 
even  Carver  would  be  notliiug  in  your  liands  —  but  as  to  lik- 
ing you  like  that,  what  should  make  it  likely  ?  especially  when 
I  have  made  the  signal,  and  for  some  two  months  or  more,  you 
have  never  even  answered  it!  If  you  like  me  so  ferociously, 
why  do  you  leave  me  for  other  people  to  do  just  as  they  like 
with  me  ?  " 


188  LOENA    DOONE. 

"To  do  as  they  like!  Oh,  Lorna,  not  to  make  you  marry 
Carver  ?  " 

"  No,  Master  Ridd,  be  not  frightened  so ;  it  makes  me  fear 
to  look  at  you." 

"  But  you  have  not  married  Carver  yet  ?  Say  quick !  Why 
keep  me  waiting  so  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  have  not,  Master  Ridd.  Should  I  be  here  if 
I  had,  think  you,  and  allowing  you  to  like  me  so,  and  to  hold 
my  hand,  and  make  me  laugh,  as  I  declare  you  almost  do 
sometimes  ?     And  at  other  times  you  frighten  me." 

"  Did  they  want  you  to  marry  Carver  ?  Tell  me  all  the 
truth  of  it." 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet.  They  are  not  half  so  impetuous  as  you 
are,  John.  I  am  only  just  seventeen,  you  know,  and  who  is 
to  think  of  marrying  ?  But  they  wanted  me  to  give  my  word, 
and  be  formally  betrothed  to  him  in  the  presence  of  my  grand- 
father. It  seems  that  something  frightened  them.  There  is 
a  youth  named  Charleworth  Doone,  every  one  calls  him 
'Charlie;  '  a  headstrong  and  gay  young  man,  very  gallant  in 
his  looks  and  manner ;  and  my  uncle,  the  Counsellor,  chose  to 
fancy  that  Charlie  looked  at  me  too  much,  coming  by  my  grand- 
father's cottage." 

Here  Lorna  blushed  so  that  I  was  frightened,  and  began  to 
hate  this  Charlie  more,  a  great  deal  more,  than  even  Carver 
Doone. 

" He  had  better  not, "  said  I ;  "I  will  fling  him  over  it,  if  he 
dare.  He  shall  see  thee  through  the  roof,  Lorna,  if  at  all  he 
see  thee." 

"  Master  Ridd,  you  are  worse  than  Carver !  I  thought  you 
were  so  kind-hearted.  Well,  they  wanted  me  to  promise,  and 
even  to  swear  a  solemn  oath  (a  thing  I  have  never  done  in  my 
life)  that  I  would  wed  my  eldest  cousin,  this  same  Carver 
Doone,  who  is  tAvice  as  old  as  I  am,  being  thirty-five  and 
upwards.  That  was  why  I  gave  the  token  that  I  wished  to 
see  you.  Master  Ridd.  They  pointed  out  how  much  it  was 
for  the  peace  of  all  the  family,  and  for  mine  own  benefit;  but 
I  would  not  listen  for  a  moment,  though  the  Counsellor  was 
most  eloquent,  and  my  grandfather  begged  me  to  consider, 
and  Carver  smiled  his  pleasantest,  which  is  a  truly  frightful 
thing.  Then  both  he  and  his  crafty  father  were  for  using 
force  with  me;  but  Sir  Ensor  would  not  hear  of  it;  and  they 
have  put  off  that  extreme,  until  he  shall  be  past  its  knowl- 
edge, or,  at  least,  beyond  preventing  it.  And  now  I  am 
watched,  and  spied,  and  followed,  and  half  my  little  liberty 


JOHN  HAS   HOPE  OF  LOBNA.  189 

seems  to  be  taken  from  me.  I  could  not  be  here  speaking 
with  you,  even  in  my  own  nook  and  refuge,  but  for  the  aid, 
and  skill,  and  courage  of  dear  little  Gwenny  Carfax.  She  is 
now  my  chief  reliance,  and  through  her  alone  I  hope  to  baffle 
all  my  enemies,  since  others  have  forsaken  me." 

Tears  of  sorrow  and  reproach  were  lurking  in  her  soft  dark 
eyes,  until  in  fewest  words  1  told  her,  that  my  seeming  negli- 
gence was  nothing  but  my  bitter  loss  and  wretched  absence  far 
away;  of  which  I  had  so  vainly  striven  to  give  any  tidings 
without  danger  to  her.  When  she  heard  all  this,  and  saw 
what  I  had  brought  from  London  (which  was  nothing  less 
than  a  ring  of  pearls  with  a  sapphire  in  the  midst  of  them,  as 
pretty  as  could  well  be  found),  she  let  the  gentle  tears  flow 
fast,  and  came  and  sat  so  close  beside  me,  that  I  trembled  like 
a  folded  sheep  at  the  bleating  of  her  lamb.  But  recovering 
comfort  quickly,  without  more  ado,  I  raised  her  left  hand,  and 
observed  it  with  a  nice  regard,  wondering  at  the  small  blue 
veins,  and  curves,  and  tapering  whiteness,  and  the  points  it 
finished  with.  My  wonder  seemed  to  please  her  much,  her- 
self so  well  accustomed  to  it,  and  not  fond  of  watching  it. 
And  then,  before  she  could  say  a  word,  or  guess  what  I  Avas 
up  to,  as  quick  as  ever  I  turned  hand  at  a  bout  of  wrestling, 
on  her  finger  was  my  ring  —  sapphire  for  the  veins  of  blue, 
and  pearls  to  match  white  fingers. 

"  Oh,  you  crafty  Master  Eidd !  "  said  Lorna,  looking  up  at 
me,  and  blushing  now  a  far  brighter  blush  than  when  she 
spoke  of  Charlie;  "I  thought  that  you  were  much  too  simple 
ever  to  do  this  sort  of  thing.  No  wonder  you  can  catch  the 
fish,  as  when  first  I  saw  you." 

"  Have  I  caught  you,  little  fish  ?  Or  must  all  my  life  be 
spent  in  hopeless  angling  for  you  ?  " 

"Neither  one,  nor  the  other,  John!  You  have  not  caught 
me  yet  altogether,  though  I  like  you  dearly,  John ;  and  if  you 
will  only  keej)  away,  I  sliall  lik<^  you  more  and  more.  As  for 
hopeless  angling,  John  —  tliat  all  others  shall  have  until  I  tell 
you  otherwise." 

With  the  large  tears  in  her  eyes  —  tears  which  seemed  to 
me  to  rise  partly  from  her  want  to  love  me  with  the  power  of 
my  love  —  she  i)ut  her  pure  bright  lips,  half  smiling,  half 
prone  to  reply  to  tears,  against  my  forehead  lined  with 
trouble,  doubt,  and  eager  longing.  And  then  sh<;  drew  my 
ring  from  off  that  snowy  twig  her  finger,  and  held  it  out  to 
me;  and  then,  seeing  how  my  face  was  falling,  thrice  she 
tiiticlicd    it  with   lici-    lips,   and  sweetly  gave  it  back  to   me. 


190  LORNA   BOONE. 

"  John,  I  dare  not  take  it  now ;  else  I  should  be  cheating  you. 
I  will  try  to  love  you  dearly,  even  as  you  deserve  and  wish. 
Keep  it  for  me  just  till  then.  Something  tells  me  I  shall  earn 
it,  in  a  very  little  time.  Perhaps  you  will  be  sorry  then, 
sorry  when  it  is  all  too  late,  to  be  loved  by  such  as  I  am." 

What  could  I  do  at  her  mournful  tone,  but  kiss  a  thousand 
times  the  hand  which  she  put  up  to  warn  me,  and  vow  that  I 
would  rather  die  with  one  assurance  of  her  love,  than  without 
it  live  for  ever,  with  all  beside  that  the  world  could  give  ? 
Upon  this  she  looked  so  lovely,  with  her  dark  eyelashes 
trembling,  and  her  soft  eyes  full  of  light,  and  the  color  of 
clear  sunrise  mounting  on  her  cheeks  and  brow,  that  I  was 
forced  to  turn  away,  being  overcome  with  beauty. 

"Dearest  darling,  love  of  my  life,"  I  whispered  through  her 
clouds  of  hair;  "how  long  must  I  wait  to  know,  how  long 
must  I  linger  doubting  whether  you  can  ever  stoop  from  your 
birth  and  wondrous  beauty  to  a  poor  coarse  hind  like  me,  an 
ignorant  unlettered  yeoman  " 

"  I  will  not  have  you  revile  yourself, "  said  Lorna,  very  ten- 
derly —  just  as  I  had  meant  to  make  her.  "  You  are  not  rude 
and  unlettered,  John.  You  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do : 
you  have  learned  both  Greek  and  Latin,  as  you  told  me  long 
ago,  and  you  have  been  at  the  very  best  school  in  the  West  of 
England.  None  of  us  but  my  grandfather,  and  the  Coun- 
sellor (who  is  a  great  scholar),  can  compare  with  you  in  this. 
And  though  I  have  laughed  at  your  manner  of  speech,  I  only 
laughed  in  fun,  John;  I  never  meant  to  vex  you  by  it,  nor 
knew  that  I  had  done  so." 

"Nought  you  say  can  vex  me,  dear,"  I  answered,  as  she 
leaned  towards  me,  in  her  generous  sorrow;  "unless  you  say, 
'Begone,  John  Ridd;  I  love  another  more  than  you.'  " 

"Then  I  shall  never  vex  you,  John.  Never,  I  mean,  by 
saying  that.     Now,  John,  if  you  please,  be  quiet " 

For  I  was  carried  away  so  much,  by  hearing  her  call  me 
"  John  "  so  often,  and  the  mvisic  of  her  voice,  and  the  way  she 
bent  toward  me,  and  the  shadow  of  soft  weeping  in  the  sun- 
light of  her  eyes,  that  some  of  my  great  hand  was  creeping  in 
a  manner  not  to  be  imagined,  and  far  less  explained,  toward 
the  lithesome,  wholesome  curving  underneath  her  mantle-fold, 
and  out  of  sight  and  harm,  as  I  thought;  not  being  her  front 
waist.  However,  I  was  dashed  with  that,  and  pretended  not 
to  mean  it;  only  to  pluck  some  lady-fern,  whose  elegance  did 
me  no  good. 

"Now,  John,"  said  Lorna,  being  so  quick  that  not  even  a 


REAPING  LEADS    TO  BEVELLING.  191 

lover  could  cheat  her,  and  observing  my  confusion  more  in- 
tently than  she  need  have  done.  "Master  John  Ridd,  it  is 
high  time  for  you  to  go  home  to  your  mother.  1  love  your 
mother  very  much,  from  what  you  have  told  me  about  her, 
and  I  will  not  have  her  cheated." 

"If  3-ou  truly  love  my  mother,"  said  I,  very  craftily,  "the 
only  way  to  show  it  is  by  truly  loving  me." 

Upon  that,  she  laughed  at  me  in  the  sweetest  manner,  and 
with  such  provoking  ways,  and  such  come-and-go  of  glances, 
and  beginning  of  quick  blushes,  which  she  tried  to  laugh 
away;  that  I  knew,  as  well  as  if  she  herself  had  told  me,  by 
some  knowledge  (void  of  reasoning,  and  the  surer  for  it),  I 
knew  quite  well,  while  all  my  heart  was  burning  hot  within 
me,  and  mine  eyes  were  shy  of  hers,  and  her  eyes  were  shy 
of  mine;  for  certain  and  for  ever  this  I  knew  —  as  in  a  glory 
—  that  Lorna  Doone  had  now  begun,  and  would  go  on,  to 
love  me. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELLING. 

Although  I  was  under  interdict  for  two  months  from  my 
darling  —  "one  for  your  sake,  one  for  mine,"  she  had  whis- 
pered, with  her  head  withdrawn,  yet  not  so  very  far  from  me 
—  lighter  heart  was  not  on  Exmoor  than  I  bore  for  half  the 
time,  and  even  for  three  quarters.  For  she  was  safe;  I  knew 
that  daily  by  a  mode  of  signals,  well-contrived  between  us 
now,  on  the  strength  of  our  experience.  "  I  have  notliing  now 
to  fear,  John,"  she  had  said  to  me,  as  we  parted;  "it  is  true 
that  I  am  spied  and  watched,  but  Gwenny  is  too  keen  for  them. 
While  I  have  my  grandfather  to  prevent  all  violence;  and 
little  Gwenny  to  keep  watch  on  those  who  try  to  watch  me; 
and  you  above  all  others,  John,  ready  at  a  moment,  if  the 
worst  comes  to  the  worst  —  this  neglected  Lorna  Doone  was 
never  in  such  case  before.  Therefore  do  not  squeeze  my  hand, 
John;  I  am  safe  without  it,  and  you  do  not  know  your 
strength." 

Ah,  I  knew  my  strcngtli  riglit  wc^ll.  Hill  and  valley 
scarcely  seemed  to  be  step  and  landing  for  me;  fiercest  cattle 
I  would  play  witli,  making  tliem  go  backward,  and  afraid  of 
hurting  them,   like  John  Fry  with  his  terrier;   even  rooted 


192  LOBNA   DOONE. 

trees  seemed  to  me  but  as  sticks  I  could  smite  down,  except 
for  my  love  of  every  thing.  The  love  of  all  things  was  upon 
me,  and  a  softness  to  tliem  all,  and  a  sense  of  having  some- 
thing even  such  as  they  had. 

Then  the  golden  harvest  came,  waving  on  the  broad  hill- 
side, and  nestling  in  the  quiet  nooks  scooped  from  out  the 
fringe  of  wood.  A  wealth  of  harvest,  such  as  never  glad- 
dened all  our  country-side  since  my  father  ceased  to  reap,  and 
his  sickle  hung  to  rust.  There  had  not  been  a  man  on  Exmoor 
fit  to  work  that  reaping-hook,  since  the  time  its  owner  fell, 
in  the  prime  of  life  and  strength,  before  a  sterner  reaper. 
But  now  I  took  it  from  the  wall,  where  mother  proudly  stored 
it,  while  she  watched  me,  hardly  knowing  whether  she  should 
smile  or  cry. 

All  the  parish  was  assembled  in  our  upper  courtyard;  for 
we  were  to  open  the  harvest  that  year,  as  had  been  settled 
with  Farmer  Nicholas,  and  with  Jasper  Kebby,  who  held  the 
third  or  little  farm.  We  started  in  proper  order,  therefore, 
as  our  practice  is :  first,  the  parson,  Josiah  Bowden,  wearing 
his  gown  and  cassock,  with  the  parish  Bible  in  his  hand,  and 
a  sickle  strapped  behind  him.  As  he  strode  along  well  and 
stoutly,  being  a  man  of  substance,  all  our  family  came  next,  I 
leading  mother  with  one  hand,  in  the  other  bearing  my  father's 
hook,  and  with  a  loaf  of  our  own  bread  and  a  keg  of  cider  upon 
my  back.  Behind  us  Annie  and  Lizzie  walked,  wearing 
wreaths  of  corn-flowers,  set  out  very  prettily,  such  as  mother 
would  have  worn,  if  she  had  been  a  farmer's  wife,  instead  of  a 
farmer's  widow.  Being  as  she  was,  she  had  no  adornment, 
except  that  her  widow's  hood  was  off,  and  her  hair  allowed  to 
flow,  as  if  she  had  been  a  maiden;  and  very  rich  bright  hair 
it  was,  in  spite  of  all  her  troubles. 

After  us,  the  maidens  came,  milkmaids  and  the  rest  of  them, 
with  Betty  Muxworthy  at  their  head,  scolding  even  now, 
because  they  would  not  walk  fitly.  But  they  only  laughed  at 
her;  and  she  knew  it  was  no  good  to  scold,  with  all  the  men 
behind  them. 

Then  the  Snowes  came  trooping  forward ;  Farmer  Nicholas 
in  the  middle,  walking  as  if  he  would  rather  walk  to  a  wheat- 
field  of  his  own,  yet  content  to  follow  lead,  because  he  knew 
himself  the  leader;  and  signing  every  now  and  then  to  the 
people  here  and  there,  as  if  I  were  nobody.  But  to  see  his 
three  great  daughters,  strong  and  handsome  wenches,  making 
upon  either  side,  as  if  somebody  would  run  off  with  them  — 
this  was  the  very  thing  that  taught  me  how  to  value  Lorna, 
and  her  pure  simplicity. 


REAPING  LEADS   TO  BEVELLING.  193 

After  the  Snowes,  came  Jasper  Kebby,  with  his  wife  new- 
married;  and  a  very  honest  pair  they  were,  upon  only  a  hun- 
dred acres,  and  a  right  of  common.  After  these  the  men  came 
hotly,  without  decent  order,  trying  to  spy  the  girls  in  front, 
and  make  good  jokes  about  them,  at  which  their  wives  laughed 
heartily,  being  jealous  when  alone  perhaps.  And  after  these 
men  and  their  wives  came  all  the  children  toddling,  picking 
flowers  by  the  way,  and  chattering  and  asking  questions,  as 
the  children  will.  There  must  have  been  threescore  of  us, 
take  one  with  another;  and  the  lane  was  full  of  people.  When, 
we  were  come  to  the  big  field-gate,  where  the  first  sickle  was 
to  be,  Parson  Bowden  heaved  up  the  rail  with  the  sleeves  of 
his  gown  done  green  with  it;  and  he  said  that  every  body 
might  hear  him,  "though  his  breath  was  short,  "  In  the  name  of 
the  Lord,  Amen !  " 

"Amen!  So  be  it!  "  cried  the  clerk,  who  was  far  behind, 
being  only  a  shoemaker. 

Then  Parson  Bowden  read  some  verses  from  the  parish 
Bible,  telling  us  to  lift  up  our  eyes,  and  look  upon  the  fields 
already  white  to  harvest ;  and  then  he  laid  the  Bible  down  on 
the  square  head  of  the  gate-post,  and  despite  his  gown  and 
cassock,  three  good  swipes  he  cut  of  corn,  and  laid  them  right 
end  onwards.  All  this  time  the  rest  were  huddling  outside  the 
gate,  and  along  the  lane,  not  daring  to  interfere  with  parson, 
but  whispering  how  well  he  did  it. 

When  he  had  stowed  the  corn  like  that,  mother  entered, 
leaning  on  me,  and  we  both  said,  "Thank  the  Lord  for  all  His 
mercies,  and  these  the  first  fruits  of  His  hand!  "  And  then  the 
clerk  gave  out  a  psalm  verse  by  verse,  done  very  well;  although 
he  sneezed  in  the  midst  of  it,  from  a  beard  of  wheat  thrust  up 
his  nose  by  the  rival  cobbler  at  Brendon.  And  when  tlie 
psalm  was  sung,  so  strongly  that  the  foxgloves  on  the  bank 
Avere  shaking,  like  a  chime  of  bells,  at  it,  parson  took  a  stoop 
of  cider  and  we  all  fell  to  at  reaping. 

Of  course  I  mean  tlie  men,  not  women;  although  I  know  that 
up  the  country,  women  are  allowed  to  reap;  and  right  well 
they  reap  it,  keeping  row  for  row  witli  men,  comely,  and  in 
due  order;  yet,  meseems,  the  men  must  ill  attend  to  their  own 
reaping-hooks,  in  fear  lest  the  other  cut  thomsolves,  being  the 
weaker  vessel.  But  in  our  part,  women  (h)  what  seems  their 
proper  Imsiness,  following  well  behind  the  men,  out  of  harm 
of  the  swinging-liook,  and  stooping  with  their  breasts  and 
arms  u\)  tliey  catch  the  swathes  of  corn,  where  the  reapers 
cast  them,  and  tucking  tliciii  together  tightly  with  a  wisp  laid 
VOL.  i.  —  U 


194  LORNA  BOONE. 

under  them,  this  they  fetch  arovmd  and  twist,  with  a  knee  lo 
keep  it  close ;  and  lo,  there  is  a  goodly  sheaf,  ready  to  set  up 
in  stooks !  After  these  the  children  come,  gathering  each  for 
his  little  self,  if  the  farmer  be  right-minded;  until  each  hath 
a  bundle  made  as  big  as  himself  and  longer,  and  tumbles  now 
and  again  with  it,  in  the  deeper  part  of  the  stubble. 

We,  the  men,  kept  marching  onwards  down  the  flank  of  the 
yellow  wall,  with  knees  bent  wide,  and  left  arm  bowed,  and 
right  arm  flashing  steel.  Each  man  in  his  several  place,  keep- 
ing down  the  rig  or  chine,  on  the  right  side  of  the  reaper  in 
front,  and  the  left  of  the  man  that  followed  him ;  each  making 
further  sweep  and  inroad  into  the  golden  breadth  and  depth, 
each  casting  leftwards  his  rich  clearance  on  his  foregoer's 
double  track. 

So  like  half  a  wedge  of  wildfowl,  to  and  fro  we  swept  the 
field;  and  when  to  either  hedge  we  came,  sickles  wanted 
whetting,  and  throats  required  moistening,  and  backs  were  in 
need  of  easing,  and  every  man  had  much  to  say,  and  women 
wanted  praising.  Then  all  returned  to  the  other  end,  with  reap- 
ing-hooks beneath  our  arms,  and  dogs  left  to  mind  jackets. 

But  now,  will  you  believe  me  well,  or  will  you  only  laugh 
at  me  ?  For  even  in  the  world  of  wheat,  when  deep  among 
the  varnished  crispness  of  the  jointed  stalks,  and  below  the 
feathered  yielding  of  the  graceful  heads,  even  as  I  gripped  the 
swathes  and  swept  the  sickle  round  them,  even  as  I  flung  them 
by  to  rest  on  brother  stubble,  through  the  whirling  yellow 
world,  and  eagerness  of  reaping,  came  the  vision  of  my  love, 
as  with  downcast  eyes  she  wondered  at  my  power  of  passion. 
And  then  the  sweet  remembrance  glowed,  brighter  than  the 
sun  through  wheat,  through  my  very  depth  of  heart,  of  how 
she  raised  those  beaming  eyes,  and  ripened  in  my  breast  rich 
hope.  Even  now  I  could  descry,  like  high  waves  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  rounded  heads  and  folded  shadows  of  the  wood  of 
Bagworthy.  Perhaps  she  was  walking  in  the  valley,  and  softly 
gazing  up  at  them.  Oh,  to  be  a  bird  just  there !  I  could  see 
a  bright  mist  hanging  just  above  the  Doone  Glen.  Perhaps 
it  was  shedding  its  drizzle  upon  her.  Oh,  to  be  a  drop  of 
rain !  The  very  breeze  which  bowed  the  harvest  to  my  bosom 
gently,  might  have  come  direct  from  Lorna,  with  her  sweet 
voice  laden.  Ah,  the  flaws  of  air  that  wander  where  they 
will  around  her,  fan  her  bright  cheek,  play  with  lashes,  even 
revel  in  her  hair  and  reveal  her  beauties  —  man  is  but  a 
breath,  we  know,  would  I  were  such  breath  as  that! 

But  confound  it,  while  I  ponder,  with  delicious  dreams  sus- 


REAPING   LEADS    TO  REVELLING.  195 

pended,  with  my  right  arm  hanging  frustrate  and  the  giant 
sickle  drooped,  with  my  left  arm  bowed  for  clasping  something- 
more  germane  than  wheat,  and  my  eyes  not  minding  lousiness, 
but  intent  on  distant  woods,  —  confound  it,  what  are  the  men. 
about,  and  why  am  I  left  vaporing  ?  They  have  taken  advan- 
tage of  me,  the  rogues !  They  are  gone  to  the  hedge  for  the 
cider-jars;  they  have  had  up  the  sledd  of  bread  and  meat, 
quite  softly  over  the  stubble,  and  if  I  can  believe  my  eyes  (so 
dazed  with  Lorna's  image),  they  are  sitting  down  to  an  excel- 
lent dinner,  before  the  church  clock  has  gone  eleven! 

''  John  Fry,  you  big  villain !  "  I  cried,  with  John  hanging 
up  in  the  air  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck-cloth,  but  holding  still 
by  his  knife  and  fork,  and  a  goose-leg  in  between  his  lips, 
"  John  Fry,  what  mean  you  by  this,  sir  ?  " 

"Latt  me  dowun,  or  I  can't  tell  'e,"  John  answered,  with 
some  diificulty.  So  I  let  him  come  down,  and  I  must  confess 
that  he  had  reason  on  his  side.  "  Please  your  worship  "  — 
John  called  me  so,  ever  since  I  returned  from  London,  lirmly 
believing  that  the  King  had  made  me  a  magistrate  at  least; 
though  I  was  to  keep  it  secret  —  "  us  zeed  as  how  your  worship 
were  took  with  thinkin'  of  King's  business,  in  the  middle  of 
the  whate-rigg;  and  so  us  zed,  'Latt  un  coom  to  his  zell,  us 
had  better  zave  taime,  by  takking  our  dinner;  '  and  here  us 
be,  plaise  your  worship,  and  liopps  no  offence  with  thick  iron 
spoon  full  of  vried  taties." 

I  was  glad  enough  to  accept  the  ladle  full  of  fried  batatas, 
and  to  make  the  best  of  things,  which  is  generally  done  by  let- 
ting men  have  their  own  way.  Therefore  I  managed  to  dine 
witli  them,  although  it  was  so  early. 

For  according  to  all  that  I  can  find,  in  a  long  life  and  a 
varied  one,  twelve  o'clock  is  the  real  time  for  a  man  to  have 
his  dinner.  Then  the  sun  is  at  his  noon,  calling  halt  to  look 
around,  and  then  tlie  })lants  and  leaves  are  turning,  each  with 
a  little  leisure  time,  before  the  work  of  the  afternoon.  Then 
is  the  balance  of  east  and  west,  and  then  the  right  and  left 
side  of  a  man  are  in  due  proportion,  and  contribute  fairly  with 
harmonious  fluids.  And  th(;  health  of  this  mode  of  life,  antl 
its  reclaiming  virtue  are  well  set  forth  in  our  ancient 
rhyme,  — 

"Simri.se,  breakfast;  sun  hi^h,  dinner; 
Sundown,  sup  ;  makes  a  saint  of  a  sinner." 

\\'his]i,  the  wlicat  falls!  Whiil  again;  ye  liave  liad  good 
diiiiKirs;  give  your  master  and  mistrt'ss  plenty  to  supply  an- 


196  LOBNA  DOONE. 

other  year.  And  in  truth  we  did  reap  well  and  fairly,  through 
the  whole  of  that  afternoon,  I  not  only  keeping  lead,  but  keep- 
ing the  men  up  to  it.  We  got  through  a  matter  of  ten  acres, 
ere  the  sun  between  the  shocks,  broke  his  light  on  wheaten 
plumes,  then  hung  his  red  cloak  on  the  clouds,  and  fell  into 
gray  slumber. 

Seeing  this  we  wiped  our  sickles,  and  our  breasts  and  fore- 
heads, and  soon  were  on  the  homeward  road,  looking  forward 
to  good  supper. 

Of  course  all  the  reapers  came  at  night  to  the  harvest- 
supper,  and  Parson  Bowden  to  say  the  grace,  as  well  as  to  help 
to  carve  for  us.  And  some  help  was  needed  there,  I  can  well 
assure  you;  for  the  reapers  had  brave  appetites,  and  most  of 
their  wives  having  babies  were  forced  to  eat  as  a  duty. 
Neither  failed  they  of  this  duty;  cut  and  come  again  was  the 
order  of  the  evening,  as  it  had  been  of  the  day ;  and  I  had  no 
time  to  ask  questions,  but  help  meat  and  ladle  gravy.  All 
the  while  our  darling  Annie,  with  her  sleeves  tucked  up,  and 
her  comely  figure  panting,  was  running  about  with  a  bucket 
of  taties  mashed  with  lard  and  cabbage.  Even  Lizzie  had  left 
her  books,  and  was  serving  out  beer  and  cider ;  while  mother 
helped  plum-pudding  largely  on  pewter  plates  with  the  mutton. 
And  all  the  time,  Betty  Muxworthy  was  grunting  in  and  out 
everywhere,  not  having  space  to  scold  even,  but  changing  the 
dishes,  serving  the  meat,  poking  the  fire,  and  cooking  more. 
But  John  Fry  would  not  stir  a  peg,  except  with  his  knife  and 
fork,  having  all  the  airs  of  a  visitor,  and  his  Avife  to  keep  him 
eating,  till  I  thought  there  would  be  no  end  of  it. 

Then  having  eaten  all  they  could,  they  prepared  themselves, 
with  one  accord,  for  the  business  now  of  drinking.  But  first 
they  lifted  the  neck  of  corn,  dressed  with  ribbons  gaily,  and 
set  it  upon  the  mantel-piece,  each  man  with  his  horn  a-froth; 
and  then  they  sang  a  song  about  it,  every  one  shouting  in  the 
chorus  louder  than  harvest  thunderstorm.  Some  were  in  the 
middle  of  one  verse,  and  some  at  the  end  of  the  next  one;  yet 
somehow  all  managed  to  get  together  in  the  mighty  roar  of  the 
burden.  And  if  any  farmer  up  the  country  would  like  to 
know  Exmoor  harvest-song,  as  sung  in  my  time  and  will  be 
sung  long  after  I  am  garnered  home,  lo  here  I  set  it  down  for 
him,  omitting  only  the  dialect,  which  perchance  might  puzzle 
him. 


REAPING  LEADS   TO   REVELLING.  197 

EXMOOR   HARVEST-SONG. 


The  com,  oh  the  com,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  com ! 
Go  unto  the  door,  my  lad,  and  look  beneath  the  moon. 
Thou  canst  see,  beyond  the  woodrick,  how  it  is  yelloon : 

'Tis  the  harvesting  of  wheat,  and  the  barley  must  be  shorn. 

{Chorus.) 

The  corn,  oh  the  com,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  corn ! 

Here's  to  the  corn,  with  the  cups  upon  the  board  ! 
We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we'll  reap  again  the  morn, 

And  fetch  it  home  to  mow-yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

2. 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  wheat ! 
All  the  day  it  has  been  hanging  down  its  heavy  head. 
Bowing  over  on  our  bosoms  with  a  beard  of  red  : 

'Tis  the  harvest,  and  the  value  makes  the  labor  sweet. 

(  Chorus.) 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  and  the  golden,  golden  wheat ! 

Here's  to  the  wheat,  with  the  loaves  upon  the  board  ! 
We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we  never  will  be  beat, 

But  fetch  it  all  to  mow-yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

3. 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  is  in  prime ! 
All  the  day  it  has  been  rustling  with  its  bristles  brown. 
Waiting  with  its  beard  abowing,  till  it  can  be  mown  ! 

'Tis  the  harvest  and  the  barley  must  abide  its  time. 

(  Chorus.) 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  ruddy  brown  ! 

Here's  to  the  barley,  with  the  beer  upon  the  board  ! 
We'll  go  amowing,  soon  as  ever  all  the  wheat  is  down  ; 

When  all  is  in  the  mow-yard,  we'll  stop,  and  thank  the  Lord. 


The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  oats ! 

All  the  day  they  have  been  dancing  with  their  Hakes  of  white, 
Waiting  for  the  girding-hook,  to  be  the  nags'  delight: 

'Tis  the  harvest,  let  them  dangle  in  their  skirted  coats. 

{Chorus.) 

The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  and  the  silver,  silver  oats ! 

Here's  to  the  oats  with  the  backstone  on  the  board  ! 
We'll  go  among  them,  when  the  barley  has  been  laid  in  rotes  ; 

When  all  is  home  to  mow-yard,  we'll  kneel  and  thank  the  Lord. 


198  LORN  A   DOONE. 


The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  blessing  of  the  corn  ! 

Come  unto  the  door,  my  lads,  and  look  beneath  the  moon, 
We  can  see,  on  hill  and  valley,  how  it  is  yelloon. 

With  a  breadth  of  gloiy,  as  when  our  Lord  was  born. 

(  Chorus. ) 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  corn ! 

Thanks  for  the  corn,  with  our  bread  upon  the  board  ! 
So  shall  we  acknowledge  it,  before  we  reap  the  morn, 

With  our  hands  to  heaven,  and  our  knees  unto  the  Lord. 

Now  we  sang  this  song  very  well  the  first  time,  having  the 
parish  choir  to  lead  us,  and  the  clarionet,  and  the  parson  to 
give  us  the  time  with  his  cup ;  and  we  sang  it  again  the  second 
time,  not  so  but  what  you  might  praise  it  (if  you  had  been 
with  us  all  the  evening),  although  the  parson  was  gone  then, 
and  the  clerk  not  fit  to  compare  with  him  in  the  matter  of 
keeping  time.  But  when  that  song  was  in  its  third  singing, 
I  defy  any  man  (however  sober)  to  have  made  out  one  verse 
from  the  other,  or  even  the  burden  from  the  verses,  inasmuch 
as  every  man  present,  ay,  and  woman  too,  sang  as  became  con- 
venient to  them,  in  utterance  both  of  words  and  tune. 

And  in  truth,  there  was  much  excuse  for  them;  because  it 
was  a  noble  harvest,  fit  to  thank  the  Lord  for,  without  His 
thinking  us  hypocrites.  For  we  had  more  land  in  wheat,  that 
year,  than  ever  we  had  before,  and  twice  the  crop  to  the  acre ; 
and  I  could  not  help  now  and  then  remembering,  in  the  midst 
of  the  merriment,  how  my  fatlier  in  the  churchyard  yonder 
would  have  gloried  to  behold  it.  And  my  mother,  who  had 
left  us  now,  happening  to  return  just  then,  being  called  to 
have  her  health  drunk  (for  the  twentieth  time  at  least),  I 
knew  by  the  sadness  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  thinking  just  as 
I  was.  Presently  therefore  I  slipped  away  from  the  noise, 
and  mirth,  and  smoking  (although  of  that  last  there  was  not 
much,  except  from  Farmer  Nicholas),  and  crossing  the  court- 
yard in  the  moonlight,  I  went,  just  to  cool  myself,  as  far  as 
my  father's  tombstone. 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST  OF  IT.  199 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

ANNIE    GETS    THE    BEST    OF    IT. 

I  HAD  long  outgrown  nnwliolesome  feeling  as  to  my  father's 
death;  and  so  had  Annie;  though  Lizzie  (who  must  have 
loved  him  least)  still  entertained  some  evil  will,  and  longing 
for  a  punishment.  Tlierefore  I  was  surprised  (and  indeed, 
startled  would  not  be  too  much  to  say,  the  moon  being  some- 
Avhat  fleecy)  to  see  our  Annie  sitting  there  as  motionless  as  the 
tombstone,  and  with  all  her  best  fal-lals  upon  her,  after  stow- 
ing away  the  dishes. 

My  nerves  however  are  good  and  strong,  except  at  least  in 
love  matters  wherein  they  always  fail  me,  and  when  I  meet 
with  witches;  and  therefore  I  went  up  to  Annie,  although  she 
looked  so  white  and  pure;  for  I  had  seen  her  before  with 
those  things  on,  and  it  struck  me  Avho  she  was. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Annie?"  I  enquired  rather 
sternly,  being  vexed  with  her  for  having  gone  so  very  near  to 
frighten  me. 

"Nothing  at  all,"  said  our  Annie  shortly.  And  indeed  it 
was  truth  enough  for  a  woman.  Not  that  I  dare  to  believe 
that  women  are  such  liars  as  men  say ;  only  that  I  mean  they 
often  see  things  round  the  corner,  and  know  not  which  is  which 
of  it.  And  indeed  I  never  have  known  a  woman  (though 
right  enough  in  tlieir  meaning)  purely  and  perfectly  true  and 
transparent,  except  only  my  Lorna;  and  even  so,  I  might  not 
have  loved  her,  if  she  had  been  ugly. 

"Why,  how  so?"  said  I;  "Miss  Annie,  what  business  have 
you  here,  doing  nothing  at  this  time  of  night?  And  leaving 
me  with  all  the  trouble  to  entertain  our  guests ! " 

"  You  seem  not  to  me  to  be  doing  it,  John, "  Annie  answered 
softly;  "wliat  business  have  you  here  doing  nothing,  at  this 
time  of  night?  " 

I  was  taken  so  aback  with  this,  and  the  extreme  impertinence 
of  it,  from  a  mere  young  girl  like  Annie,  that  I  turned  round 
to  march  away  and  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  her.  ]>ut  she 
jumped  up,  aiul  caught  me  by  the  hand,  and  threw  herself 
upon  my  bosom,  with  her  face  all  wet  with  tears. 

"Oh  Jolm,  I  will  toll  you.  I  will  tell  you.  Only  don't  be 
angry,  John." 

"  Angry!  no  inch-ed,"  said  I;  "what  right  have  I  to  be  angry 


200  LOIiNA   BOONE. 

with  you,  because  you  have  your  secrets?     Every  chit  of  a  girl 
thinks  now  that  she  has  a  right  to  lier  secrets." 

"And  you  have  none  of  your  own,  John;  of  course  you  have 
none  of  your  own?     All  your  going  out  at  night " 

"  We  will  not  quarrel  here,  poor  Annie,"  I  answered,  with 
some  loftiness;  there  are  many  things  upon  my  mind,  which 
girls  can  have  no  notion  of." 

"  And  so  there  are  upon  mine,  John.  Oh  John,  I  will  tell 
you  every  thing,  if  you  will  look  at  me  kindly,  and  promise  to 
forgive  me.     Oh,  I  am  so  miserable !  " 

Now  this,  though  she  was  behaving  so  badly,  moved  me 
much  towards  her;  especially  as  I  longed  to  know  what  she 
had  to  tell  me.  Therefore  I  allowed  her  to  coax  me,  and  to 
kiss  me,  and  to  lead  me  away  a  little,  as  far  as  the  old  yew- 
tree  ;  for  she  would  not  tell  me  where  she  was. 

But  even  in  the  shadow  there,  she  was  very  long  before  begin- 
ning, and  seemed  to  have  two  minds  about  it,  or  rather  perhaps 
a  dozen ;  and  she  laid  her  cheek  against  the  tree,  and  sobbed 
till  it  was  pitiful ;  and  I  knew  what  mother  would  say  to  her, 
for  spoiling  her  best  frock  so. 

"  Xow  will  you  stop?  "  I  said  at  last,  harder  than  I  meant  it; 
for  I  knew  that  she  would  go  on  all  night,  if  any  one  encour- 
aged her :  and  though  not  well  acquainted  with  women,  I  under- 
stood my  sisters;  or  else  I  must  be  a  born  fool  —  except  of 
course  that  I  never  professed  to  understand  Eliza. 

"Yes,  I  will  stop,"  said  Annie,  panting;  "you  are  very  hard 
on  me,  John;  but  I  know  you  mean  it  for  the  best.  If  some- 
body else  —  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  who,  and  have  no  right  to 
know  no  doubt,  but  she  must  be  a  wicked  thing  —  if  somebody 
else  had  been  taken  so  with  a  pain  all  round  the  heart,  John, 
and  no  power  of  telling  it,  perhaps  you  would  have  coaxed, 
and  kissed  her,  and  come  a  little  nearer,  and  made  opportunity 
to  be  very  loving." 

Xow  this  was  so  exactly  what  I  had  tried  to  do  to  Lorna, 
that  my  breath  was  almost  taken  away  at  Annie's  so  describ- 
ing it.  Eor  a  while  I  could  not  say  a  word,  but  wondered  if 
she  were  a  witch,  which  had  never  been  in  our  family :  and 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  saw  the  way  to  beat  her,  with  the  devil 
at  my  elbow. 

"From  your  knowledge  of  these  things,  Annie,  you  must 
have  had  them  done  to  you.  I  demand  to  know  this  very 
moment  who  has  taken  such  liberties." 

"  Then,  John,  you  shall  never  know,  if  you  ask  in  that  man- 
ner.    Besides  it  was  no  liberty  in  the  least  at  all.     Cousins 


ANNIE  GETS   THE  BEST  OF  IT.  201 

have  a  right  to  do  things  —  and  •u'hen  they  are  one's  godfather 

"     Here  Annie  stopped  quite  suddenly,  having  so  betrayed 

herself;  but  met  me  in  the  full  moonlight,  being  resolved  to 
face  it  out,  with  a  good  face  put  upon  it. 

"Alas,  I  feared  it  would  come  to  this,"  I  answered  very 
sadly;  "I  know  he  has  been  here  many  a  time,  without  show- 
ing himself  to  me.  There  is  nothing  meaner  than  for  a  man 
to  sneak,  and  steal  a  young  maid's  heart,  without  her  people 
knowing  it." 

"  You  are  not  doing  anything  of  that  sort  yourself,  then, 
dear  John,  are  you?" 

"  Only  a  common  highwayman !  "  I  answered,  without  lieed- 
ing  her;  "  a  man  without  an  acre  of  his  own,  and  liable  to  hang 
upon  any  common,  and  no  other  right  of  common  over  it " 

"  John,"  said  my  sister,  "  are  the  Doones  privileged  not  to  be 
hanged  upon  common  land?" 

At  this  I  was  so  thunderstruck,  that  I  leaped  in  the  air  like 
a  shot  rabbit,  and  n;shed  as  hard  as  1  could  through  the  gate 
and  across  the  yard,  and  back  into  the  kitchen;  and  there  T 
asked  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  to  give  me  some  tobacco,  and  to 
lend  me  a  spare  pipe. 

This  he  did  with  a  grateful  manner,  being  now  some  five- 
fourths  gone;  and  so  I  smoked  the  very  first  pipe  that  ever 
■^ad  entered  my  lips  till  then;  and  beyond  a  doubt  it  did  me 
^ood,  and  spread  my  heart  at  leisure. 

Meanwhile  the  reapers  were  mostly  gone,  to  be  up  betimes, 
in  the  morning ;  and  some  were  led  by  their  wives ;  and  some 
had  to  lead  their  wives  themselves ;  according  to  the  capacity 
of  man  and  wife  respectively.  But  Betty  was  as  lively  as 
ever,  bustling  about  with  every  one,  and  looking  out  for  the 
chance  of  groats,  which  the  better  off  might  be  free  with.  And 
over  the  kneading-pan,  next  day,  she  dropped  three  and  six- 
pence out  of  her  pocket;  and  Lizzie  could  not  tell  for  her  life 
how  much  more  might  have  been  in  it. 

Now  by  the  time  I  had  almost  finished  smoking  that  pipe  of 
tobacco,  and  wondering  at  myself  for  having  so  des})ised  it 
hitherto,  and  making  up  my  mind  to  have  another  trial  to-mor- 
row night,  it  began  to  occur  to  me  that  although  dear  Annie 
had  beliaved  so  very  badly  and  rudely,  and  almost  taken  my 
breath  away  with  the  suddenness  of  her  allusion,  yet  it  was 
not  kind  of  me  to  leave  her  out  there  at  that  time  of  night,  all 
alone,  and  in  sucli  distress.  Any  of  the  reapers  going  home 
miglit  ]je  gotten  so  far  beyond  fear  of  ghosts  as  to  venture  into 
tlie  cliurchyard;  and  although  they  would  know  a  great  deal 


202  LOBNA   DOONE. 

better  than  to  insult  a  sister  of  mine  when  sober,  there  was  no 
telling  what  they  might  do  in  their  present  state  of  rejoicing. 
Moreover,  it  was  only  right  that  I  should  learn,  for  Lorna's 
sake,  how  far  Annie,  or  any  one  else,  had  penetrated  our  secret. 

Therefore  I  went  forth  at  once,  bearing  my  pipe  in  a  skilful 
manner,  as  I  had  seen  Farmer  Nicholas  do  ;  and  marking,  with 
a  new  kind  of  pleasure,  how  the  rings  and  wreaths  of  smoke 
hovered  and  fluttered  in  the  moonlight,  like  a  lark  upon  his 
carol.  Poor  Annie  was  gone  back  again  to  our  father's  grave ; 
and  there  she  sat  upon  the  turf,  sobbing  very  gently,  and  not 
wishing  to  trouble  any  one.  So  I  raised  her  tenderly,  and 
made  much  of  her,  and  consoled  her,  for  I  could  not  scold  her 
there  ;  and  perhaps  after  all  she  was  not  t©  be  blamed  so  much 
as  Tom  Faggus  himself  was.  Annie  was  very  grateful  to  me, 
and  kissed  me  many  times,  and  begged  my  pardon  ever  so  often 
for  her  rudeness  to  me.  And  then  having  gone  so  far  with  it, 
and  finding  me  so  complaisant,  she  must  needs  try  to  go  a  little 
further,  and  to  lead  me  away  from  her  own  affairs,  and  into 
mine  concerning  Lorna.  But  although  it  was  clever  enough  of 
her,  she  was  not  deep  enough  for  me  there ;  and  I  soon  discov- 
ered that  she  knew  nothing,  not  even  the  name  of  my  darling ; 
but  only  suspected  from  things  she  had  seen,  and  put  together 
like  a  woman.  Upon  this  I  brought  her  back  again  to  Tom 
Faggus  and  his  doings. 

"  My  poor  Annie,  have  you  really  promised  him  to  be  his 
wife  ?  " 

"  Then  after  all  you  have  no  reason,  John,  no  particular 
reason  I  mean,  for  slighting  poor  Sally  Snowe  so  ?  " 

''  Without  even  asking  mother  or  me  !  Oh,  Annie,  it  was 
wrong  of  you !  " 

"  But,  darling,  you  know  that  mother  wishes  you  so  much  to 
marry  Sally;  and  I  am  sure  you  could  have  her  to-morrow. 
She  dotes  on  the  very  ground " 

"  I  dare  say  he  tells  you  that,  Annie,  that  he  dotes  on  the 
ground  you  walk  upon  —  but  did  you  believe  him,  child  ?  " 

"You  may  believe  me,  I  assure  you,  John;  and  half  the 
farm  to  be  settled  upon  her,  after  the  old  man's  time;  and 
though  she  gives  herself  little  airs,  it  is  only  done  to  entice 
you ;  she  has  the  very  best  hand  in  the  dairy,  John,  and  the 
lightest  at  a  turn-over  cake " 

"  Now,  Annie,  don't  talk  nonsense  so.  I  wish  just  to  know 
the  truth  about  you  and  Tom  Faggus.  Do  you  mean  to  marry 
him  ?  " 

"  I  to  marry  before  my  brother,  and  leave  him  with  none  to 


ANNIE  GETS   THE  BEST  OF  IT.  203 

take  care  of  him !  Who  can  do  him  a  red  deer  collop,  except 
Sally  herself,  as  I  can?  Come  home,  dear,  at  once,  and  I  will 
do  one  for  you;  for  you  never  ate  a  morsel  of  supper,  with  all 
the  people  you  had  to  attend  upon." 

This  was  true  enough;  and  seeing  no  chance  ot  anything 
more  than  cross  questions  and  crooked  purposes,  at  which  a  girl 
was  sure  to  beat  me,  I  even  allowed  her  to  lead  me  home,  with 
the  thoughts  of  the  collop  uppermost.  But  I  never  counted 
upon  being  beaten  so  thoroughly  as  I  was ;  for  knowing  me 
now  to  be  off  my  guard,  the  young  hussy  stopped  at  the  farm- 
yard gate,  as  if  with  a  briar  entangling  her,  and  while  I  was 
stooping  to  take  it  away,  she  looked  me  full  in  the  face  by  the 
moonlight,  and  jerked  out  quite  suddenly, — 

"Can  your  love  do  a  collop,  John?" 

"No,  I  should  hope  not,"  I  answered  rashly;  "she  is  not  a 
mere  cook-maid  I  should  hope." 

"  She  is  not  half  so  pretty  as  Sally  Snowe;  I  will  answer  for 
that,"  said  Annie. 

"  She  is  ten  thousand  times  as  pretty  as  ten  thousand  Sally 
Snowes,"  I  replied  with  great  indignation. 

"  Oh,  but  look  at  Sally's  eyes!  "  cried  my  sister  rapturously. 

"Look  at  Lorna  Doone's,"  said  I;  "and  you  would  never 
look  again  at  Sally's." 

"Oh,  Lorna  Doone,  Lorna  Doone!"  exclaimed  our  Annie, 
half-frightened,  yet  clapping  her  hands  with  triumph,  at  hav- 
ing found  me  out  so :  "  Lorna  Doone  is  the  lovely  maiden,  who 
has  stolen  poor  somebody's  heart  so.  Ah,  I  shall  remember 
it;  because  it  is  so  queer  a  name.  But  stop,  I  had  better 
write  it  down.     Lend  me  your  hat,  poor  boy,  to  write  on." 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  lend  you  a  box  on  the  ear,"  I  answered 
her  in  my  vexation ;  "  and  I  would,  if  you  had  not  been  crying 
so,  you  sly  good-for-nothing  baggage.  As  it  is,  I  shall  keep  it 
for  Master  Faggus,  and  add  interest  for  keeping." 

"  Oh  no,  John ;  oh  no,  John, "  she  begged  me  earnestly,  being 
sobered  in  a  moment.  "  Your  hand  is  so  terribly  heavy,  John ; 
and  he  never  would  forgive  you;  although  he  is  so  good- 
hearted,  he  cannot  put  up  with  an  insult.  Promise  me,  dear 
John,  that  you  will  not  strike  him;  and  I  will  promise  you 
faithfully  to  keep  your  secret,  even  from  mother,  and  even 
from  Cousin  Tom  himself." 

"And  from  Lizzie;  most  of  all,  from  Lizzie,"  I  answered, 
very  eagf^rl}^,  knowing  too  well  which  one  of  my  family  would 
be  hardest  with  me. 

"Of  course  from  little  Lizzie,"  said  Annie,  with  some  con- 


204  LOBNA   DOONE. 

tempt ;  "  a  young  thing  like  her  cannot  be  kept  too  long,  in 
my  opinion,  from  the  knowledge  of  such  subjects.  And 
besides,  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  Lizzie  had  the  right  to  know 
your  secrets,  as  I  have,  dearest  John.  Not  a  soul  shall  be  the 
wiser  for  your  having  trusted  me,  John;  although  I  shall  be 
very  wretched  when  you  are  late  away  at  night,  among  those 
dreadful  people." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,  Annie. 
You  have  my  secret,  and  I  have  yours ;  and  I  scarcely  know 
which  of  the  two  is  likely  to  have  the  worst  time  of  it,  when 
it  comes  to  mother's  ears.  I  could  put  up  with  perpetual  scold- 
ing; but  not  with  mother's  sad  silence." 

"  That  is  exactly  how  I  feel,  John ;  "  and  as  Annie  said  it  she 
brightened  up,  and  her  soft  eyes  shone  upon  me;  "but  now  I 
shall  be  much  happier,  dear;  because  I  shall  try  to  help  you. 
No  doubt  the  young  lady  deserves  it,  John.  She  is  not  after 
the  farm,  I  hope !  " 

"She!"  I  exclaimed;  and  that  was  enough;  there  was  so 
much  scorn  in  my  voice  and  face. 

"  Then,  I  am  sure,  I  am  very  glad;  "  Annie  always  made  the 
best  of  things;  "for  I  do  believe  that  Sally  Snowe  has  taken  a 
fancy  to  our  dairy-place,  and  the  pattern  of  our  cream -pans ; 
and  she  asked  so  much  about  our  meadows,  and  the  color  of 
the  milk " 

"Then,  after  all,  you  were  right,  dear  Annie;  it  is  the 
ground  she  dotes  upon!  " 

"And  the  things  that  walk  upon  it,"  she  answered  me,  with 
another  kiss ;  "  Sally  has  taken  a  wonderful  fancy  to  our  best 
cow,  'Nipple  pins.'  But  she  never  shall  have  her  now;  what 
a  consolation! " 

We  entered  the  house  quite  gently  thus,  and  found  farmer 
Nicholas  Snowe  asleep,  little  dreaming  how  his  plans  had  been 
overset  between  us.  And  then  Annie  said  to  me  very  slyly, 
between  a  smile  and  a  blush, — 

"  Don't  you  wish  Lorna  Doone  was  here,  John,  in  the  parlor 
along  with  mother;  instead  of  those  two  fashionable  milk- 
maids, as  Uncle  Ben  will  call  them,  and  poor  stupid  Mistress 
Kebby?" 

"That  indeed  I  do,  Annie.  I  must  kiss  you  for  only  think- 
ing of  it.  Dear  me,  it  seems  as  if  you  had  known  all  about  us 
for  a  twelvemonth." 

"  She  loves  you,  with  all  her  heart,  John.  No  doubt  about 
that  of  course."  And  Annie  looked  up  at  me,  as  much  as  to 
say  she  would  like  to  know  who  could  help  it. 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST   OF  IT.  205 

"That's  the  very  thing  she  won't  do,"  said  I,  knowing  that 
Annie  would  love  me  all  the  more  for  it;  "she  is  only  begin- 
ning to  like  me,  Annie;  and  as  for  loving,  she  is  so  young  that 
she  only  loves  her  grandfather.  But  I  hope  she  Avill  come  to 
it  by-and-by." 

"Of  course  she  must,"  replied  my  sister;  "it  will  be  impos- 
sible for  her  to  help  it." 

"Ah  well!  I  don't  know,"  for  I  wanted  more  assurance  of 
it.     "  Maidens  are  sucli  wondrous  things !  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it, "  said  Annie,  casting  her  bright  eyes  down- 
wards: "love  is  as  simple  as  milking;  when  people  know  how 
to  do  it.  But  you  must  not  let  her  alone  too  long;  that  is  my 
advice  to  you.  What  a  simpleton  you  must  have  been  not  to 
tell  me  long  ago !  I  would  have  made  Lorna  wild  about  you, 
long  before  this  time,  Johnny.  But  now  you  go  into  the  par- 
lor, dear,  while  I  do  your  collop.  Faith  Snowe  is  not  come, 
but  Polly  and  Sally.  Sally  has  made  up  her  mind  to  conquer 
you  this  very  blessed  evening,  John.  Only  look  what  a  thing 
of  a  scarf  she  has  on;  I  sliould  be  quite  ashamed  to  wear  it. 
But  you  won't  strike  poor  Tom,  will  you?  " 

"Not  I,  my  darling,  for  your  sweet  sake." 

And  so  dear  Annie,  having  grown  quite  brave,  gave  me  a  little 
push  into  the  parlor,  where  I  was  quite  abashed  to  enter,  after 
all  I  had  heard  about  Sally.  And  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
examine  her  well,  and  try  a  little  courting  with  her,  if  she 
should  lead  me  on,  that  I  might  be  in  practice  for  Lorna. 
But  when  I  perceived  how  grandly  and  richly  both  the  young 
damsels  were  apparelled;  and  how,  in  their  courtesies  to  me, 
they  retreated,  as  if  I  were  making  up  to  them,  in  a  way  they 
had  learned  from  Exeter ;  and  how  they  began  to  talk  of  the 
Court,  as  if  they  had  been  there  all  their  lives,  and  the  latest 
mode  of  the  Duchess  of  this,  and  the  profile  of  the  Countess  of 
that,  and  the  last  good  saying  of  my  Lord  something;  instead 
of  butter,  and  cream,  and  eggs,  and  things  which  they  under- 
stood; I  knew  ther(i  must  be  somebody  in  the  room  besides 
Jasper  Kebby  to  talk  at. 

And  so  there  was ;  for  behind  the  curtain  drawn  across  the 
window-seat,  no  less  a  man  than  Uncle  Ben  was  sitting  half 
asleep  and  weary;  and  by  his  side  a  little  girl,  very  quiet  and 
very  watchful.  My  mother  led  me  to  Uncle  J^en,  and  he  took 
my  hand  without  rising,  muttering  something  not  over-polite, 
about  my  being  bigger  than  ever.  T  asked  liim  heartily  how 
he  was,  and  Ik^  said,  "  Well  enough,  for  tliat  matter;  but  none 
the  better  I'oi-  tlie  noise  you  great  chxls  liave  been  making." 


206  LOBNA  DOONE. 

"  I  am  sorry  if  we  nave  disturbed  you,  sir, "  I  answered  very 
civilly;  "but  I  knew  not  that  you  were  here  even;  and  you 
must  allow  for  harvest  time." 

"  So  it  seems, "  he  replied ;  "  and  allow  a  great  deal,  includ- 
ing waste  and  drunkenness.  Now  (if  you  can  see  so  small  a 
thing,  after  emptying  flagons  much  larger)  this  is  my  grand- 
daughter, and  my  heiress  "  —  here  he  glanced  at  mother  — 
"my  heiress,  little  Euth  Huckaback." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Kuth, "  I  answered,  offering  her 
my  hand,  which  she  seemed  afraid  to  take;  "welcome  to 
Plover's  Barrows,  my  good  cousin  Kuth." 

However,  my  good  cousin  Ruth  only  arose,  and  made  me  a 
courtesy,  and  lifted  her  great  brown  eyes  at  me,  more  in  fear, 
as  I  thought,  than  kinship.  And  if  ever  any  one  looked  unlike 
the  heiress  to  great  property,  it  was  the  little  girl  before  me. 

"  Come  out  to  the  kitchen,  dear,  and  let  me  chuck  you  to 
the  ceiling,"  I  said,  just  to  encourage  her;  "I  always  do  it  to 
little  girls;  and  then  they  can  see  the  hams  and  bacon." 

But  Uncle  Reuben  burst  out  laughing;  and  Ruth  turned 
away  with  a  deep  rich  color. 

"Do  you  know  how  old  she  is,  you  numskull?"  said  Uncle 
Ben,  in  his  dryest  drawl;  "she  was  seventeen  last  July,  sir." 

"On  the  first  of  July,  grandfather,"  Ruth  whispered,  with 
her  back  still  to  me;  "but  many  people  will  not  believe  it." 

Here  mother  came  up  to  my  rescue,  as  she  always  loved  to 
do ;  and  she  said,  "  If  my  son  may  not  dance  Miss  Ruth,  at 
any  rate  he  may  dance  with  her.  We  have  only  been  waiting 
for  you,  dear  John,  to  have  a  little  harvest  dance,  with  the 
kitchen  door  thrown  open.  You  take  Ruth;  Uncle  Ben  take 
Sally ;  Master  Kebby  pair  off  with  Polly ;  and  neighbor  Nicho- 
las will  be  good  enough,  if  I  can  awake  him,  to  stand  up  with 
fair  mistress  Kebby.  Lizzie  will  play  us  the  virginal.  Won't 
you,  Lizzie  dear?" 

"  But  who  is  to  dance  with  you,  madam?  "  Uncle  Ben  asked, 
very  politely.  "  I  think  you  must  rearrange  your  figure.  I 
have  not  danced  for  a  score  of  years ;  and  I  will  not  dance  now, 
while  the  mistress  and  the  owner  of  the  harvest  sits  aside 
neglected." 

"Nay,  Master  Huckaback,"  cried  Sally  Snowe,  with  a  saucy 
toss  of  her  hair;  "Mistress  Ridd  is  too  kind  a  great  deal,  in 
handing  you  over  to  me.  You  take  her;  and  I  will  fetch  Annie 
to  be  my  partner  this  evening.  I  like  dancing  very  much 
better  with  girls,  for  they  never  squeeze  and  rumple  one.  Oh 
it  is  so  much  nicer !  " 


ANNIE  GETS    THE  BEST  OF  IT.  207 

"  Have  no  fear  for  me,  my  dears, "  our  mother  answered  smil- 
ing :  "  Parson  Bowden  promised  to  come  back  again :  I  expect 
him  every  minute;  and  he  intends  to  lead  me  off,  and  to  bring 
a  partner  for  Annie  too,  a  very  pretty  young  gentleman.  Now 
begin;  and  I  will  join  you." 

There  was  no  disobeying  Iier,  without  rudeness ;  and  indeed 
the  girls'  feet  were  already  jigging;  and  Lizzie  giving  herself 
wonderful  airs  with  a  roll  of  learned  music;  and  even  while 
Annie  was  doing  my  collop,  her  pretty  round  instep  was  arch- 
ing itself,  as  I  could  see  from  the  parlor-door.  So  I  took  little 
Ruth,  and  I  spun  her  around,  as  the  sound  of  the  music  came 
lively  and  ringing ;  and  after  us  came  all  the  rest  with  much 
laughter,  begging  me  not  to  jump  over  her ;  and  anon  my  grave 
partner  began  to  smile  sweetly,  and  look  up  at  me  with  the 
brightest  of  eyes,  and  drop  me  the  prettiest  courtesies;  till  I 
thought  what  a  great  stupe  I  must  have  been,  to  dream  of  put- 
ting her  in  the  cheese-rack.  But  one  thing  I  could  not  at  all 
understand;  why  mother,  who  used  to  do  all  in  her  power  to 
throw  me  across  Sally  Snowe,  should  now  do  the  very  opposite; 
for  she  would  not  allow  me  one  moment  with  Sally,  not  even 
to  cross  in  the  dance,  or  whisper,  or  go  any  where  near  a  cor- 
ner (which,  as  I  said,  I  intended  to  do,  just  by  way  of  practice) ; 
while  she  kept  me,  all  the  evening,  as  close  as  possible  with 
Ruth  Huckaback,  and  came  up  and  praised  me  so  to  Ruth, 
times  and  again,  tliat  I  declare  I  was  quite  ashamed.  Although 
of  course  I  knew  that  I  deserved  it  all;  but  I  could  not  well 
say  that. 

Then  Annie  came  sailing  down  the  dance,  with  her  beautiful 
hair  flowing  round  her;  the  lightest  figure  in  all  the  room,  and 
the  sweetest,  and  the  loveliest.  She  was  blushing,  with  her 
fair  cheeks  red  beneath  lier  dear  blue  eyes,  as  she  met  my 
glance  of  surprise  and  grief  at  the  partner  she  was  leaning  on. 
It  was  Squire  Marwood  de  Whichehalse.  I  would  sooner  have 
seen  her  with  Tom  Faggus,  as  indeed  I  had  ex])e('ted,  when  I 
heard  of  Parson  Bowden.  And  to  me  it  seemed  that  she  had 
no  right  to  be  dancing  so  with  any  other;  and  to  this  effect  I 
contrived  to  whisper;  but  she  only  said,  "  See  to  yourself,  John. 
No,  but  let  us  l)oth  enjoy  ourselves.  You  are  not  dancing  with 
Lorna,  John.     But  you  seem  uncommonly  hap])y." 

"  Tush,"  I  said;  "  could  I  flip  about  so,  if  I  had  my  love  with 
me?" 


208  LOBNA   BOONE. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI. 

JOHN    FKy's    errand. 

We  kept  up  the  dance  very  late  that  night,  mother  being  in 
such  wonderful  spirits,  that  she  would  not  hear  of  our  going 
to  bed :  while  she  glanced  from  young  Squire  Marwood,  very 
deep  in  his  talk  with  our  Annie,  to  me  and  Ruth  Huckaback, 
who  were  beginning  to  be  very  pleasant  company.  Alas,  poor 
mother,  so  proud  as  she  was,  how  little  she  dreamed  that  her 
good  schemes  already  were  hopelessly  going  awry! 

Being  forced  to  be  up  before  daylight  next  day,  in  order  to 
begin  right  early,  I  would  not  go  to  my  bed-room  that  night, 
for  fear  of  disturbing  my  mother,  but  determined  to  sleep  in 
the  tallat  awhile,  that  place  being  cool,  and  airy,  and  refresh- 
ing with  the  smell  of  sweet  hay.  Moreover,  after  my  dwelling 
in  town,  where  I  had  felt  like  a  horse  on  a  lime-kiln,  I  could 
not  for  a  length  of  time  have  enough  of  country  life.  The 
mooing  of  a  calf  was  music,  and  the  chuckle  of  a  fowl  was  wit, 
and  the  snore  of  the  horses  Avas  news  to  me. 

"  Wult  have  thee  own  wai,  I  rackon, "  said  Betty,  being  cross 
with  sleepiness,  for  she  had  washed  up  everything;  "slape  in 
hog-pound,  if  thee  laikes,  Jan." 

Letting  her  have  the  last  word  of  it  (as  is  the  due  of  women) 
I  stood  in  the  court,  and  wondered  awhile  at  the  glory  of  the 
harvest  moon,  and  the  yellow  world  it  shone  upon.  Then  I 
saw,  as  sure  as  I  was  standing  there  in  the  shadow  of  the 
stable,  I  saw  a  short  wide  figure  glide  across  the  foot  of  the 
courtyard,  between  me  and  tlie  six-barred  gate.  Instead  of 
running  after  it,  as  I  should  have  done,  I  began  to  consider  who 
it  could  be,  and  what  on  earth  it  was  doing  there,  when  all  our 
people  were  in  bed,  and  the  reapers  gone  home,  or  to  the  lin- 
hay  close  against  the  wheatfield. 

Having  made  up  my  mind  at  last,  that  it  could  be  none  of 
our  people  —  though  not  a  dog  was  barking  —  and  also  that  it 
must  have  been  either  a  girl  or  a  woman,  I  ran  down  with  all 
speed  to  learn  what  might  be  the  meaning  of  it.  But  I  came 
too  late  to  learn,  through  my  own  hesitation;  for  this  was  the 
lower  end  of  the  courtyard,  not  the  approach  from  the  parish 
highway,  but  the  end  of  the  sledd-way  across  the  fields  where 
the  brook  goes  down  to  the  Lynn  stream,  and  where  Squire 
Faggus  had  saved  the  old  drake.     And  here  the  dry  channel  of 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRAND.  209 

the  brook,  being  scarcely  any  Avater  now,  afforded  plenty  of 
place  to  hide,  leading  also  to  a  little  coppice,  beyond  our  cab- 
bage-garden, and  so  further  on  to  the  parish  highway. 

i  saw  at  once  that  it  was  vain  to  make  any  pursuit  by  moon- 
light; and  resolving  to  hold  my  own  counsel  about  it  (though 
puzzled  not  a  little)  and  to  keep  watch  there  anotlier  night, 
back  I  returned  to  the  tallat-ladder,  and  slept  without  leaving 
off  till  morning. 

iSTow  many  people  may  wish  to  know,  as  indeed  I  myself  did 
very  greatly,  what  had  brought  Master  Huckaback  over  from 
Dulverton,  at  that  time  of  year,  when  the  clothing  business 
was  most  active  on  account  of  harvest  wages,  and  wlien  the  new 
wheat  was  beginning  to  sample  from  the  early  parts  iip  the 
country  (for  he  meddled  as  well  in  corn-dealing)  and  when  we 
could  not  attend  to  him  properly,  by  reason  of  our  occupation. 
And  yet  more  surprising  it  seemed  to  me,  that  he  should  have 
brought  his  granddaughter  also,  instead  of  the  troop  of  dra- 
goons, without  which  he  had  vowed  he  would  never  come  here 
again.  And  how  he  had  managed  to  enter  the  house,  together 
with  his  granddaughter,  and  be  sitting  quite  at  home  in  the 
parlor  there,  without  any  knowledge  or  even  suspicion  on  my 
part.  That  last  question  was  easily  solved,  for  mother  herself 
had  admitted  them,  by  means  of  the  little  passage,  during  a 
chorus  of  the  harvest-song  which  might  have  drowned  an  earth- 
quake: but  as  for  his  meaning  and  motive,  and  apparent 
neglect  of  his  business,  none  but  himself  could  interpret  them; 
and  as  he  did  not  see  fit  to  do  so,  we  could  not  be  rude  enough 
to  inquire. 

He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  take  his  departure,  though  his  visit 
was  so  inconvenient  to  us,  as  liimself  indeed  must  have  noticed: 
and  presently  Lizzie,  who  was  the  sharpest  among  us,  said  in 
my  hearing  that  she  believed  he  had  purposely  timed  his  visit 
so  that  he  might  have  liberty  to  pursue  his  own  object,  what- 
soever it  were,  without  interruption  from  us.  Mother  gazed 
hard  upon  Lizzie  at  this,  having  formed  a  very  different  opin- 
ion ;  but  Annie  and  myself  agreed  that  it  was  worth  looking 
into. 

Now  how  could  we  look  into  it,  without  watching  Uncle  Eeu- 
ben,  whenever  he  went  abroad,  and  trying  to  catch  him  in  his 
speech,  when  he  was  taking  his  ease  at  night?  For,  in  spite 
of  all  tlie  disgust  with  wliich  lie  had  spokc>n  of  harvest  was- 
sailing, there  was  not  a  man  coming  into  our  kitchen  who  liked 
it  better  tlian  he  did;  only  in  a  quiet  way,  and  without  too 
many  witnesses.     Now  to  endeavor  to  get  at  the  purpose  of 

VOL.  I.  —  14 


210  LOllNA   BOONE. 

any  guest,  even  a  treaclierous  one  (which  we  had  no  right  to 
think  Uncle  Eeuben)  by  means  of  observing  him  in  his  cups, 
is  a  thing  Avhich  even  the  lowest  of  people  would  regard  with 
abhorrence.  And  to  my  mind  it  was  not  clear,  whether  it 
would  be  fair-play  at  all,  to  follow  a  visitor,  even  at  a  distance 
from  home  and  clear  of  our  premises ;  except  for  the  purpose 
of  fetching  him  back,  and  giving  him  more  to  go  on  with. 
Nevertheless  we  could  not  but  think,  the  times  being  wild  and 
disjointed,  that  Uncle  Ben  was  not  using  fairly  the  part  of  a 
guest  in  our  house,  to  make  long  expeditions  we  knew  not 
whither,  and  involve  us  in  trouble  we  knew  not  what. 

For  his  mode  was  directly  after  breakfast  to  pray  to  the  Lord 
a  little  (which  used  not  to  be  his  practice),  and  then  to  go  forth 
upon  Dolly,  the  which  was  our  Annie's  pony,  very  quiet  and 
respectful,  with  a  bag  of  good  victuals  hung  behind  him,  and 
two  great  cavalry  pistols  in  front.  And  he  always  wore  his 
meanest  clothes,  as  if  expecting  to  be  robbed,  or  to  disarm  the 
temptation  thereto ;  and  he  never  took  his  golden  chronometer, 
neither  his  bag  of  money.  So  much  the  girls  found  out  and 
told  me  (for  I  was  never  at  home  myself  by  day) ;  and  they 
very  craftily  spurred  me  on,  having  less  noble  ideas  perhaps, 
to  hit  upon  Uncle  Eeuben's  track,  and  follow,  and  see  what 
became  of  him.  For  he  never  returned  until  dark  or  more, 
just  in  time  to  be  in  before  us,  who  were  coming  home  from 
the  harvest.  And  then  Dolly  always  seemed  very  weary,  and 
stained  with  a  muck  from  beyond  our  parish. 

But  I  refused  to  follow  him,  not  only  for  the  loss  of  a  day's 
work  to  myself,  and  at  least  half  a  day  to  the  other  men,  but 
chiefly  because  I  could  not  think  that  it  would  be  upright  and 
manly.  It  was  all  very  w^ell  to  creep  warily  into  the  valley 
of  the  Doones,  and  heed  every  thing  around  me,  both  because 
they  were  public  enemies,  and  also  because  I  risked  my  life  at 
every  step  I  took  there.  But  as  to  tracking  a  feeble  old  man 
(however  subtle  he  might  be),  a  guest  moreover  of  our  own, 
and  a  relative  throiigli  my  motlier  —  "Once  for  all,"  I  said, 
"it  is  below  me,  and  I  won't  do  it." 

Thereupon,  the  girls,  knowing  my  way,  ceased  to  torment 
me  about  it :  but  what  was  my  astonishment  the  very  next  day 
to  perceive  that  instead  of  fourteen  reapers,  we  were  only  thir- 
teen left,  directly  our  breakfast  was  done  with  —  or  mowers 
rather  I  should  say,  for  we  were  gone  into  the  barley  now. 

"Who  has  been  and  left  his  scythe?"  I  asked;  "and  here's 
a  tin  cup  never  handled!  " 

"Whoy,  dudn't  ee  knaw,  Maister  Jan,"  said  Bill  Dadds, 
looking  at  me  queerly,  "  as  Jan  Vry  wux  gane  avore  braxvass?  " 


JOHN  FRY'S  EBB  AND.  211 

"Oil,  very  well,"  I  answered,  "John  knows  wliat  he  is 
doing."  For  John  Fry  was  a  kind  of  foreman  now,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  say  anything  that  might  lessen  his  authority. 
However,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  rope  him,  when  I  should 
catch  him  by  himself,  without  peril  to  his  dignity. 

But  when  I  came  home  in  the  evening,  late  and  almost  weary, 
there  was  no  Annie  cooking  my  sujiper,  nor  Lizzie  by  the  lire 
reading,  nor  even  little  Ruth  Huckaback  watching  the  shadows 
and  pondering.  Upon  this,  I  went  to  the  girls'  room,  not  in 
the  very  best  of  tempers ;  and  there  I  found  all  three  of  them 
in  the  little  place  set  apart  for  Annie,  eagerly  listening  to  John 
Fry,  who  was  telling  some  great  adventure.  John  had  a  great 
jug  of  ale  beside  him,  and  a  horn  well  drained;  and  he  clearly 
looked  upon  himself  as  a  hero,  and  the  maids  seemed  to  be  of 
the  same  opinion. 

"Well  done,  John,"  my  sister  was  saying,  "capitally  done, 
John  Fry !  How  very  brave  you  have  been,  John!  Now  quick, 
let  us  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"What  does  all  this  nonsense  mean?"  I  said,  in  a  voice 
which  frightened  them,  as  I  could  see  by  the  light  of  our  own 
mutton  candles ;  "  John  Fry,  you  be  off  to  your  wife  at  once, 
or  you  shall  have  what  I  owe  you  now,  instead  of  to-morrow 
morning." 

John  made  no  answer,  but  scratched  his  head,  and  looked  at 
the  maidens  to  take  his  part. 

"It  is  you  that  must  be  off,  I  think,"  said  Lizzie,  looking 
straight  at  me,  with  all  the  impudence  in  the  world:  "what 
right  have  you  to  come  in  here  to  the  young  ladies'  room,  with- 
out an  invitation  even?" 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Lizzie,  I  suppose  mother  has  some  right 
here."  And  with  that,  I  was  going  away  to  fetch  her,  know- 
ing that  she  always  took  my  side,  and  never  would  allow  the 
house  to  be  turned  upside  down  in  that  manner.  But  Annie 
caught  hold  of  me  by  the  arm,  and  little  liutli  stood  in  the 
doorway;  and  Lizzie  said,  "Don't  be  a  fool,  John.  We  know 
things  of  you,  you  know ;  a  great  deal  more  than  you  dream  of." 

Upon  this  I  glanced  at  Annie,  to  learn  whether  she  had  been 
telling,  but  her  ])ure  true  face  reassured  me  at  once,  and  then 
she  said  very  gently, — 

"  Lizzie,  you  talk  too  fast,  my  child.  No  one  knows  any 
thing  of  our  John,  which  he  need  be  ashamed  of;  and  working 
as  lie  does  from  light  to  dusk,  and  earning  tlie  living  of  all  of 
us,  he  is  entitled  to  clioose  his  own  good  time  for  going  out 
and  for  coming  in,  withcmt  consulting  a  little  girl  iive  years 


212  LORN  A    BOONE. 

younger  than  himself.  Now,  John,  sit  down,  and  you  shall 
know  all  that  we  have  done,  though  I  doubt  whether  you  will 
approve  of  it." 

Upon  this  I  kissed  Annie,  and  so  did  Ruth ;  and  John  Fry 
looked  a  deal  more  comfortable,  but  Lizzie  only  made  a  face  at 
us.     Then  Annie  began  as  follows :  — 

"  You  must  know,  dear  John,  that  we  have  been  extremely 
curious,  ever  since  Uncle  Reuben  came,  to  know  what  he  was 
come  for,  especially  at  this  time  of  year,  when  he  is  at  his 
busiest.  He  never  vouchsafed  any  explanation,  neither  gave 
any  reason,  true  or  false,  whicli  shows  liis  entire  ignorance  of 
all  feminine  nature.  If  Ruth  had  known,  and  refused  to  tell 
us,  we  sliould  have  been  much  easier,  because  we  must  have 
got  it  out  of  Ruth,  before  two  or  three  days  were  over.  But 
darling  Ruth  knew  no  more  than  we  did;  and  indeed  I  must  do 
her  the  justice  to  say,  that  she  has  been  quite  as  inquisitive. 
Well,  we  might  have  put  up  with  it,  if  it  had  nut  been  for  his 
taking  Dolly,  my  own  pet  Dolly,  away  every  morning,  quite 
as  if  she  belonged  to  him,  and  keeping  her  out  until  close  upon 
dark,  and  then  bringing  her  home  in  a  frightful  condition.  And 
he  even  had  the  impudence,  when  I  told  him  that  Dolly  was 
my  pony,  to  say  that  we  owed  him  a  pony,  ever  since  you  took 
from  him  that  little  horse  upon  which  you  found  him  strapped 
so  snugly;  and  he  means  to  take  Dolly  to  Dulverton  with  him, 
to  run  in  his  little  cart.  If  there  is  law  in  the  land,  he  shall 
not.     Surely,  John,  you  will  not  let  him?" 

"That  I  won't,"  said  I,  "except  upon  the  conditions  which 
I  offered  him  once  before.  If  we  owe  him  the  pony,  we  owe 
him  the  straps." 

Sweet  Annie  laughed,  like  a  bell,  at  this,  and  then  she  went 
on  with  her  story. 

"Well,  John,  we  were  perfectly  miserable.  You  cannot 
understand  it,  of  course ;  but  I  used  to  go  every  evening,  and 
hug  poor  Dolly,  and  kiss  her,  and  beg  her  to  tell  me  where  she 
had  been,  and  what  she  had  seen,  that  day.  But  never  having 
belonged  to  Balaam,  darling  Dolly  was  quite  unsuccessful, 
though  often  she  strove  to  tell  me,  with  her  ears  down,  and 
both  eyes  rolling.  Then  I  made  John  Ery  tie  her  tail  in  a 
knot,  with  a  piece  of  white  ribbon,  as  if  for  adornment,  that  I 
might  trace  her  among  the  hills,  at  any  rate  for  a  mile  or  two. 
But  Uncle  Ben  was  too  deep  for  that;  he  cut  off  the  ribbon 
before  he  started,  saying  he  would  have  no  Doones  after  him. 
And  then,  in  despair,  I  applied  to  you,  knowing  how  quick  of 
foot  you  are,  and  I  got  liuth  and  Lizzie  to  help  me,  but  you 


JOHN  FRY'S   EERAND.  213 

answered  us  very  sliortly ;  and  a  very  poor  supper  you  had  that 
night,  according  to  your  deserts. 

"  But  though  we  were  dashed  to  the  ground  for  a  time,  we 
were  not  wholly  discomfited.  (3ur  determination  to  know  all 
about  it  seemed  to  increase  with  the  difficulty.  And  Uncle 
Ben's  manner  last  night  was  so  dry,  when  we  tried  to  romp 
and  to  lead  him  out,  that  it  was  much  worse  than  Jamaica 
ginger  grated  into  a  poor  sprayed  finger.  So  we  sent  him  to 
bed  at  the  earliest  moment,  and  held  a  small  council  upon  him. 
If  you  remember,  you,  John,  having  now  taken  to  smoke  (which 
is  a  hateful  practice),  had  gone  forth  grumbling  about  your  bad 
supper,  and  not  taking  it  as  a  good  lesson." 

"Wh}',  Annie,"  I  cried,  in  amazement  at  this,  "I  will  never 
trust  you  again  for  a  supper.     I  thought  you  were  so  sorry." 

"And  so  I  was,  dear;  very  sorry.  But  still,  we  must  do  our 
duty.  And  when  we  came  to  consider  it,  Ruth  was  the  cleverest 
of  us  all ;  for  she  said  that  surely  we  must  have  some  man  we 
could  trust,  about  the  farm,  to  go  on  a  little  errand ;  and  then 
I  remembered  that  old  John  Fry  would  do  anything  for  money." 

"Not  for  money,  plaize,  miss,"  said  John  Fry,  taking  a  pull 
at  the  beer;  "but  for  the  love  o'  your  swate  faice." 

"To  be  sure,  John;  with  the  King's  behind  it.  And  so 
Lizzie  ran  for  John  Fry  at  once,  and  we  gave  him  full  direc- 
tions, how  he  was  to  slip  out  of  the  barley  in  the  confusion  of 
the  breakfast,  so  that  none  miglit  miss  him;  and  to  run  back 
to  the  black  combe  bottom,  and  tliere  he  would  find  tiie  very 
same  pony  which  Uncle  Ben  had  been  tied  upon,  and  there  is 
no  faster  upon  the  farm.  And  then,  witliout  waiting  for  any 
breakfast,  unless  he  could  eat  it  either  running  or  trotting,  he 
was  to  travel  all  up  the  black  combe,  by  the  track  Uncle  Keu- 
ben  had  taken ;  and  up  at  the  top  to  look  forward  carefully, 
and  so  to  trace  him  without  being  seen." 

"Ay;  and  raiglit  wiill  a  doo'd  un,"  John  cried,  with  his 
mouth  in  the  bullock's  horn. 

"Well,  and  wliat  did  you  see,  John?"  I  asked,  with  great 
anxiety ;  though  I  meant  to  have  shown  no  interest. 

"John  was  just  at  the  very  point  of  it,"  Lizzie  answered 
me  sharply,  "when  you  chose  to  come  in  and  stop  him." 

"Then  let  him  begin  again,"  said  I;  "things  being  gone  so 
far,  it  is  now  my  duty  to  know  everything,  for  the  sake  of  you 
girls  and  mother." 

"Hem!  "  cried  Lizzie,  in  a  nasty  way;  but  T  took  no  notice 
of  lier,  for  she  was  always  bad  to  deal  with.  Therefore  John 
Fry  began  again,  being  heartily  glad  to  cl"  r,o.  that  his  story 


214  LOENA  BOONE. 

might  get  out  of  the  tumble  which  all  our  talk  had  made  in  it. 
But  as  he  could  not  tell  a  tale,  in  the  manner  of  my  Lorna 
(although  he  told  it  very  well,  for  those  who  understood  him) 
I  will  take  it  from  his  mouth  altogether,  and  state  in  brief 
what  happened. 

When  John,  upon  liis  forest  pony,  which  he  had  much  ado 
to  hold  (its  mouth  being  like  a  bucket),  was  come  to  the  top 
of  the  long  black  combe,  two  miles  or  more  from  Plover's  Bar- 
rows, and  winding  to  the  southward,  he  stopped  his  little  nag 
short  of  the  crest,  and  got  off,  and  looked  ahead  of  him,  from 
behind  a  tump  of  whortles.  It  was  a  long  flat  sweep  of  moor- 
land over  which  he  was  gazing,  with  a  few  bogs  here  and  there, 
and  brushy  places  round  them.  Of  course,  John  Fry,  from  his 
shepherd  life,  and  reclaiming  of  strayed  cattle,  knew  as  well 
as  need  be  where  he  was,  and  the  spread  of  the  hills  before  him, 
although  it  was  beyond  our  beat,  or,  rather,  I  should  say  beside 
it.  Not  but  what  we  might  have  grazed  there,  had  it  been  our 
pleasure,  but  that  it  was  not  worth  our  while,  and  scarcely 
worth  Jasper  Kebby's  even;  all  the  land  being  cropped  (as 
one  might  say)  with  desolation.  And  nearly  all  our  knowl- 
edge of  it  sprang  from  the  unaccountable  tricks  of  cows  who 
have  young  calves  with  them;  at  which  time  they  have  wild 
desire  to  get  away  from  the  sight  of  man,  and  keep  calf  and 
milk  for  one  another,  although  it  be  in  a  barren  land.  At 
least,  our  cows  have  gotten  this  trick,  and  I  have  heard  other 
people  complain  of  it. 

John  Fry,  as  I  said,  knew  the  place  well  enough,  but  he 
liked  it  none  the  more  for  that,  neither  did  any  of  our  people ; 
and,  indeed,  all  the  neighborhood  of  Thomshill  and  Larks- 
borough,  and  most  of  all  Black  Barrow  Down  lay  under  grave 
imputation  of  having  been  enchanted  with  a  very  evil  spell. 
Moreover,  it  was  known,  though  folk  were  loth  to  speak  of  it, 
even  on  a  summer  morning,  that  Squire  Thom,  who  had  been 
murdered  there,  a  century  ago  or  more,  had  been  seen  by  sev- 
eral shepherds,  even  in  the  middle  day,  walking  with  his 
severed  head  carried  in  his  left  hand,  and  his  right  arm  lifted 
towards  the  sun. 

Therefore  it  was  very  bold  in  John  (as  I  acknowledged)  to 
venture  across  that  moor  alone,  even  with  a  fast  pony  under 
him,  and  some  whiskey  by  his  side.  And  he  would  never  have 
done  so  (of  that  I  am  quite  certain),  either  for  the  sake  of 
Annie's  sweet  face,  or  of  the  golden  guinea,  which  the  three 
maidens  had  subscribed  to  reward  his  skill  and  valor.  But  the 
truth  was  that  he  could  not  resist  his  own  great  curiosity. 


/  ^ 


/f  /    ^' 


9^    .\ 


't-pi^^W^^ 


,       AV 


<' 


/ 


'^^W^ 


HK     I.KANKU     OVKR     and     PKURKI5     IN     AROUND     THE     ROCKY     CORNliR."  — 

Vol.    I.    p.    215. 


JOUN  FRY'S  ERE  AND.  215 

For,  carefully  spying  across  the  moor,  from  behind  the  tuft  of 
whortles,  at  tirst  he  could  discover  nothing  having  life  and 
motion,  except  three  or  four  Avild  cattle  roving  in  vain  search 
for  nourishment,  and  a  diseased  sheep  banished  hither,  and 
some  carrion  crows  keeping  watch  on  her.  But  when  John 
was  taking  his  very  last  look,  being  only  too  glad  to  go  home 
again,  and  acknowledge  himself  baffled,  he  thought  he  saw  a 
figure  moving  in  the  furthest  distance  upon  Black  Barrow 
Down,  scarcely  a  thing  to  be  sure  of  yet,  on  account  of  the 
want  of  color.  But  as  he  watched,  the  ligure  passed  between 
liim  and  a  naked  clitf,  and  appeared  to  be  a  man  on  horseback, 
making  his  way  very  carefully,  in  fear  of  bogs  and  serpents. 
For  all  about  there  it  is  adders'  ground,  and  large  black  ser- 
pents dwell  in  the  marshes,  and  can  swim  as  well  as  crawl. 

John  knew  that  the  man  who  was  riding  there  could  be  none 
but  Uncle  Reuben,  for  none  of  the  Doones  ever  passed  that 
way,  and  tlie  shepherds  were  afraid  of  it.  And  now  it  seemed 
an  unkid  place  for  an  unarmed  man  to  venture  through,  espe- 
cially after  an  armed  one  who  might  not  like  to  be  spied  upon, 
and  must  have  some  dark  object  in  visiting  such  drear  solitudes. 
Nevertheless,  John  Fry  so  ached  with  unbearable  curiosity  to 
know  what  an  old  man,  and  a  stranger,  and  a  rich  man,  and  a 
peaceable,  could  possibly  be  after  in  that  mysterious  manner. 
Moreover,  John  so  throbbed  v/ith  hope  to  find  some  wealthy 
secret,  that  come  what  would  of  it,  he  resolved  to  go  to  the  end 
of  the  matter. 

Therefore  he  only  waited  awhile,  for  fear  of  being  discovered, 
till  Master  Huckal)ack  turned  to  the  left,  and  entered  a  little 
gully,  whence  he  could  not  survey  the  moor.  Then  John 
remounted,  and  crossed  the  rough  land  and  the  stony  places, 
and  picked  his  way  among  the  morasses,  as  fast  as  ever  he 
dared  to  go;  until,  in  about  half  an  hour,  he  drew  nigh  the 
entrance  of  the  gully.  And  now  it  behoved  liim  to  be  most 
wary ;  for  Uncle  Ben  miglit  have  stopped  in  there,  either  to 
rest  his  horse  or  having  reached  the  end  of  his  journey.  And 
in  either  case,  Jolm  had  little  doubt  that  he  himself  would  be 
pistolled,  and  nothing  more  ever  heard  of  him.  Therefore  he 
made  his  pony  come  to  the  mouth  of  it  sideways,  and  l(>anc(l 
over,  and  peered  in  around  the  rocky  corner,  while  th(^  little 
horse  cropp(!d  at  the  briars. 

But  he  soon  perceived  that  the  gully  was  empty,  so  far  at 
least  as  its  course  was  straight;  and  with  that  he  liastened  into 
it,  tliough  Jiis  h(!art  was  not  working  easily.  When  he  had 
traced  the  winding  hollow  for  half  a  mile  or  more,  lie  saw  that 


216  LORN  A  BOONE. 

it  forked,  and  one  part  led  to  the  left  up  a  steep  red  bank,  and 
the  other  to  the  right,  being  narrow,  and  slightly  tending 
downwards.  Some  yellow  sand  lay  here  and  there  between 
the  starving  grasses,  and  this  he  examined  narrowly  for  a  trace 
of  Master  Huckaback. 

At  last  he  saw  that,  beyond  all  doubt,  the  man  he  was  pur- 
suing had  taken  the  course  which  led  down  hill;  and  down  the 
hill  he  must  follow  him.  And  this  John  did  with  deep  mis- 
givings, and  a  hearty  wish  that  he  had  never  started  upon  so 
perilous  an  errand.  For  now  he  knew  not  where  he  was,  and 
scarcely  dared  to  ask  himself,  having  heard  of  a  horrible  hole, 
somewhere  in  this  neighborhood,  called  the  "Wizard's  Sloiigh." 
Therefore  John  rode  down  the  slope,  with  sorrow,  and  great 
caution.  And  these  grew  more  as  he  went  onward,  and  his 
pony  reared  against  him,  being  scared,  although  a  native  of 
the  roughest  moorland.  And  John  had  just  made  up  his  mind 
that  God  meant  this  for  a  warning,  as  the  passage  seemed 
darker  and  deeper,  when  suddenly  he  turned  a  corner,  and  saw 
a  scene  which  stopped  him. 

For  there  was  the  Wizard's  Slough  itself,  as  black  as  death, 
and  bubbling,  with  a  few  scant  yellow  reeds  in  a  ring  around 
it.  Outside  these,  bright  watergrass  of  the  liveliest  green  was 
creeping,  tempting  any  unwary  foot  to  step,  and  plunge,  and 
founder.  And  on  the  marge  were  blue  campanula,  sundew, 
and  forget-me-not,  such  as  no  child  could  resist.  On  either 
side,  the  hill  fell  back,  and  the  ground  was  broken  with  tufts 
of  rush,  and  flag,  and  marestail,  and  a  few  rough  alder-trees 
overclogged  with  water.  And  not  a  bird  was  seen,  or  heard, 
neither  rail  nor  water-hen,  wag-tail  nor  reed-warbler. 

Of  this  horrible  quagmire,  the  worst  upon  all  Exmoor,  John 
had  heard  from  his  grandfather,  and  even  from  his  mother, 
when  they  wanted  to  keep  him  quiet;  but  his  father  had  feared 
to  speak  of  it  to  him,  being  a  man  of  piety,  and  up  to  the  tricks 
of  the  evil  one.  This  made  John  the  more  desirous  to  have  a 
good  look  at  it  now,  only  with  his  girths  well  up,  to  turn  away 
and  flee  at  speed,  if  any  thing  should  happen.  And  now  he 
proved  how  well  it  is  to  be  wary  and  wide-awake,  even  in  lone- 
some places.  For  at  the  other  side  of  the  Slough,  and  a  few 
landyards  beyond  it,  where  the  ground  was  less  noisome,  he 
had  observed  a  felled  tree  lying  over  a  great  hole  in  the  earth, 
with  staves  of  wood,  and  slabs  of  stone,  and  some  yellow  gravel 
around  it.  But  the  flags  of  reeds  around  the  morass  partly 
screened  it  from  his  eyes,  and  he  could  not  make  out  the  mean- 
ing of  it,  except  that  it  meant  no  good,  and  probably  was 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRAND.  217 

witchcraft.  Yet  Dolly  seemed  not  to  be  harmed  by  it;  for 
there  she  was,  as  large  as  life,  tied  to  a  stump  not  far  beyond, 
and  flipping  the  flies  away  with  her  tail. 

AVhile  John  was  trembling  within  himself,  lest  Dolly  should 
get  scent  of  his  pony,  and  neigh  and  reveal  their  presence, 
although  she  could  not  see  them,  suddenly  to  liis  great  amaze- 
ment something  white  arose  out  of  the  hole,  under  the  brown 
trunk  of  the  tree.  Seeing  this  his  blood  Avent  back  within 
him ;  yet  was  he  not  able  to  turn  and  floe,  but  rooted  his  face 
in  among  the  loose  stones,  and  kept  his  quivering  shoulders 
back,  and  prayed  to  God  to  protect  him.  However,  the  white 
thing  itself  was  not  so  very  awful,  being  nothing  more  than  a 
long-coned  night-cap  with  a  tassel  on  the  top,  such  as  criminals 
wear  at  hanging-time.  But  when  John  saw  a  man's  face  under 
it,  and  a  man's  neck  and  shoulders  slowly  rising  out  of  the  pit, 
he  could  not  doubt  that  this  was  the  place  where  the  murderers 
come  to  life  again,  according  to  the  Exmoor  story.  He  knew 
that  a  man  had  been  hanged  last  week,  and  that  this  was  the 
ninth  day  after  it. 

Therefore  he  could  bear  no  more,  thoroughly  brave  as  he 
had  been;  neither  did  he  wait  to  see  what  became  of  the 
gallows-man;  but  climbed  on  his  horse  with  what  speed  he 
might,  and  rode  away  at  full  gallop.  Neither  did  he  dare  go 
back  by  the  way  he  came,  fearing  to  face  Black  Barrow  Down. 
Therefore  he  struck  up  the  other  track  leading  away  towards 
Cloven  Rocks,  and  after  riding  hard  for  an  hour  and  drinking 
all  his  whiskey,  he  luckily  fell  in  with  a  shepherd,  who  led 
him  on  to  a  public-house  somewhere  near  Exeford.  And  here 
he  was  so  unmanned,  the  excitement  being  over,  that  nothing 
less  than  a  gallon  of  ale  and  half  a  gammon  of  bacon,  brought 
him  to  his  right  mind  again.  And  he  took  good  care  to  be 
home  before  dark,  having  followed  a  well-known  sheep-track. 

When  John  Fry  had  finished  his  story  at  last,  after  many 
exclamations  from  Annie,  and  from  Lizzie,  and  much  praise 
of  his  gallantry,  yet  some  little  disappointment  that  he  had 
not  stayed  there  a  little  longer,  while  he  was  about  it,  so  as  to 
be  aV)le  to  tell  us  more,  I  said  to  him  very  sternly, — 

"Now,  John,  you  have  dreamed  half  this,  my  man.  I 
firmly  believe  that  you  fell  asleep  at  the  top  of  the  black  combe, 
after  drinking  all  your  whiskey,  and  never  went  on  the  moor  at 
all.      You  know  what  a  liar  you  are,  John." 

The  girls  were  exceedingly  angry  at  this,  and  laid  their  hands 
before  my  mouth;  ])ut  I  waited  for  John  to  answer,  with  my 
eyes  fixed  upon  him  steadfastly. 


218  LORN  A   DOONE. 

"Bain't  for  me  to  denai,"  said  John,  looking  at  me  very 
honestly,  "  but  what  a  maigh  tull  a  lai,  now  and  awhiles,  zame 
as  other  men  doth,  and  most  of  arl  them  as  spaks  again  it;  but 
this  here  be  no  lai,  Maister  Jan.  I  wusli  to  Grod  it  wor,  boy : 
a  maight  slape  this  naight  the  better." 

"  I  believe  you  speak  the  truth,  John ;  and  I  ask  your  par- 
don. Now  not  a  word  to  any  one,  about  this  strange  affair. 
There  is  mischief  brewing,  1  can  see;  and  it  is  my  place  to 
attend  to  it.  Several  things  come  across  me  now  —  only  I  will 
not  tell  you." 

They  were  not  at  all  contented  with  this ;  but  I  would  give 
them  no  better ;  except  to  say  when  they  plagued  me  greatly, 
and  vowed  to  sleep  at  my  door  all  night, — 

"  Now,  my  dears,  this  is  foolish  of  you.  Too  much  of  this 
matter  is  known  already.  It  is  for  your  own  dear  sakes  that 
I  am  bound  to  be  cautious.  I  have  an  opinion  of  my  own;  but 
it  may  be  a  very  wrong  one ;  I  will  not  ask  you  to  share  it  with 
me;  neither  will  I  make  you  inquisitive." 

Annie  pouted,  and  Lizzie  frowned,  and  Ruth  looked  at  me 
with  her  eyes  wide  open,  but  no  other  mark  of  regarding  me. 
And  I  saw  that  if  any  one  of  tlie  three  (for  John  Fry  was  gone 
home  with  the  trembles)  could  be  trusted  to  keep  a  secret,  that 
one  was  Ruth  Huckaback. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FEEDING    OP    THE    PIGS. 

The  story  told  by  John  Fry  that  night,  and  my  conviction 
of  its  truth,  made  me  very  uneasy,  especially  as  following  upon 
the  warning  of  Judge  Jeffreys,  and  the  hints  received  from 
Jeremy  Stickles,  and  the  outburst  of  the  tanner  at  Dunster, 
as  well  as  sundry  tales  and  rumors,  and  signs  of  secret  under- 
standing, seen  and  heard  on  market-days,  and  at  places  of 
entertainment.  We  knew  for  certain  tliat  at  Taunton,  Bridge- 
water,  and  even  Du.lverton,  there  was  much  disaffection  towards 
the  King,  and  regret  for  the  days  of  the  Puritans.  Albeit  I 
had  told  the  truth,  and  the  pure  and  simple  truth,  when,  upon 
my  examination,  I  had  assured  his  lordship,  that  to  the  best  of 
my  knowledge  there  was  nothing  of  the  sort  with  us. 

But  now  I  was  beginning  to  doubt  whether  I  might  not  have 
been  mistaken;  especially  when  we  heard,  as  we  did,  of  arms 


FEEDING    OF  THE  PIGS.  219 

being  landed  at  Lynmouth,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and  of 
the  tramp  of  men  having  reached  some  one's  ears,  from  a  hill 
where  a  famous  echo  was.  For  it  must  be  plain  to  any  con- 
spirator (without  the  example  of  the  Doones)  that  for  the  secret 
muster  of  men,  and  the  stowing  of  unlawful  arms,  and  com- 
munication by  beacon  lights,  scarcely  a  litter  place  could  be 
found  than  the  wilds  of  Exmoor,  with  deep  ravines  running 
far  inland  from  an  unwatched  and  mostly  a  sheltered  sea. 
For  the  channel  from  Countisbury  Foreland  up  to  Minehead, 
or  even  further,  though  rocky,  and  gusty,  and  full  of  currents, 
is  safe  from  great  rollers  and  the  sweeping  power  of  the  south- 
west storms,  which  abound  with  us  more  than  all  the  others, 
and  make  sad  work  on  the  opposite  coast. 

But  even  supposing  it  probable  that  something  against  King 
Charles  the  Second  (or  rather  against  his  Iloman  advisers,  and 
especially  his  brother)  were  now  in  preparation  amongst  us, 
was  it  likely  that  Master  Huckaback,  a  wealthy  man,  and  a 
careful  one,  known  moreover  to  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  would 
have  anything  to  do  with  it?  To  this  I  could  make  no  answer; 
Uncle  Ben  was  so  close  a  man,  so  avaricious,  and  so  revenge- 
ful, that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  say  what  course  he  might 
pursue,  without  knowing  all  the  chances  of  gain,  or  rise,  or 
satisfaction  to  him.  That  he  hated  the  Papists,  I  knew  full 
well,  though  he  never  spoke  much  about  them ;  also  that  he 
had  followed  the  march  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  army,  but  more 
as  a  suttler  (people  said)  than  as  a  real  soldier;  and  that  he 
would  go  a  long  way,  and  risk  a  great  deal  of  money,  to  have 
his  revenge  on  the  Doones;  although  their  name  never  passed 
his  lips,  during  the  present  visit. 

But  how  was  it  likely  to  be,  as  to  the  Doones  themselves? 
Which  side  would  they  probably  take  in  the  coming  movement, 
if  movement  indeed  it  would  be?  So  far  as  they  had  any  relig- 
ion at  all,  by  birth  they  were  Roman  Catholics  —  so  much  I 
knew  from  Lorna;  and  indeed  it  was  well  known  all  around, 
that  a  priest  had  been  fetched  more  than  once  to  the  valley,  to 
soothe  some  poor  outlaw's  dcsparture.  On  the  otlier  hand, 
they  were  not  likely  to  entertain  much  affection  for  the  son  of 
the  man  who  had  banished  them,  and  confiscated  their  prop- 
erty. And  it  was  not  at  all  impossible  that  desperate  men, 
such  as  they  were,  having  nothing  to  lose,  but  estates  to 
recover,  and  not  being  lield  by  religion  much,  slioidd  cast  away 
all  regard  for  the  birth  from  which  they  liad  been  cast  out,  and 
make  common  cause  Avith  a  Protestant  rising,  for  the  chance 
of  revenge  and  replacement. 


220  LORNA   BOONE. 

However  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  that  all  these  things  occurred 
to  me  as  clearly  as  I  have  set  them  down;  only  that  I  was  in 
general  doubt,  and  very  sad  perplexity.  For  mother  was  so 
warm,  and  innocent,  and  so  kind  to  every  one,  that  knowing 
some  little  by  this  time  of  the  English  constitution,  I  feared 
very  greatly  lest  she  should  be  punished  for  iiarboring  malcon- 
tents. As  well  as  possible  I  knew,  that  if  any  poor  man  came 
to  our  door,  and  cried,  "Officers  are  after  me;  for  God's  sake 
take  and  hide  me,"  mother  would  take  him  in  at  once,  and 
conceal,  and  feed  him;  even  though  he  had  been  very  violent: 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  so  would  both  my  sisters,  and  so  indeed 
would  I  do.  Whence  it  will  be  clear,  that  we  were  not  the 
sort  of  people  to  be  safe  among  disturbances. 

Before  I  could  quite  make  up  my  mind  how  to  act  in  this 
difficulty,  and  how  to  get  at  the  rights  of  it  (for  I  would  not 
spy  after  Uncle  Reuben,  though  I  felt  no  great  fear  of  the 
Wizard's  Slough,  and  none  of  the  man  with  white  night-cap), 
a  difference  came  again  upon  it,  and  a  change  of  chances.  For 
Uncle  Ben  went  away,  as  suddenly  as  he  first  had  come  to  us, 
giving  no  reason  for  his  departure,  neither  claiming  the  pony, 
and  indeed  leaving  something  behind  him  of  great  value  to 
my  mother.  For  he  begged  her  to  see  to  his  young  grand- 
daughter, until  he  could  find  opportunity  of  fetching  her 
safely  to  Dulverton.  Mother  was  overjoyed  at  this,  as  she 
could  not  help  displaying;  and  Ruth  was  quite  as  much  de- 
lighted, although  she  durst  not  show  it.  For  at  Dulverton  she 
had  to  watch  and  keep  such  ward  on  the  victuals,  and  the  in 
and  out  of  the  shopmen,  that  it  went  entirely  against  her 
heart,  and  she  never  could  enjoy  herself.  Truly  she  was  an 
altered  maiden  from  the  day  she  came  to  us;  catching  our 
unsuspicious  manners,  and  our  free  good-will,  and  hearty 
noise  of  laughing. 

By  this  time,  the  harvest  being  done,  and  the  thatching  of 
the  ricks  made  sure  against  south-western  tempests,  and  all 
the  reapers  being  gone,  with  good  money  and  thankfulness,  I 
began  to  bvirn  in  spirit  for  the  sight  of  Lorna.  I  had  begged 
my  sister  Annie  to  let  Sally  Snowe  know,  once  for  all,  that 
it  was  not  in  my  power  to  have  any  thing  more  to  do  with 
her.  Of  course  our  Annie  was  not  to  grieve  Sally,  neither 
to  let  it  appear  for  a  moment  that  I  suspected  her  kind  views 
upon  me,  and  her  strong  regard  for  our  dairy :  only  I  thought 
it  right  upon  our  part,  not  to  waste  Sally's  time  any  longer, 
being  a  handsome  wench  as  she  was,  and  many  young  fellows 
glad  to  marry  her. 


FEEDING    OF  THE  PIGS.  221 

And  Annie  did  this  nncommonly  well,  as  slie  herself  told 
me  aiterwards,  having  taken  Sally  in  the  sweetest  manner 
into  her  pure  confidence,  and  opened  half  her  bosom  to  her, 
about  my  very  sad  love  affair.  Not  that  she  let  Sally  know, 
of  course,  who  it  was,  or  what  it  was ;  only  that  she  made  her 
understand,  without  hinting  at  any  desire  of  it,  that  there  was 
no  chance  now  of  having  me.  Sally  changed  color  a  little  at 
this,  and  then  went  on  about  a  red  cow  which  had  passed  seven 
needles  at  milking  time. 

Inasmuch  as  there  are  two  sorts  of  month  well  recognized 
by  the  calendar,  to  wit  the  lunar  and  the  solar,  I  made  bold  to 
regard  both  my  months,  in  the  absence  of  any  provision,  as 
intended  to  be  strictly  lunar.  Therefore  upon  the  very  day 
when  the  eight  weeks  were  expiring,  forth  I  went  in  searcli  of 
Lorna,  taking  the  pearl  ring  hopefully,  and  all  the  new-laid 
eggs  I  could  lind,  and  a  dozen  and  a  half  of  small  trout  from 
our  brook.  And  the  pleasure  it  gave  me  to  catch  those  trout, 
thinking  as  every  one  came  forth  and  danced  upon  the  grass, 
how  much  she  would  enjoy  him,  is  more  than  I  can  now  de- 
scribe, although  I  well  remember  it.  And  it  struck  me,  that 
after  accepting  my  ring,  and  saying  how  much  she  loved  me, 
it  was  possible  that  my  sweet  might  invite  me  even  to  stay 
and  sup  with  her :  and  so  I  arranged  with  dear  Annie  before- 
hand, who  now  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  me,  to  account  for 
my  absence  if  I  should  be  late. 

But  alas,  I  was  utterly  disappointed;  for  although  I  waited 
and  waited  for  hours,  with  an  equal  amount  both  of  patience 
and  peril,  no  Lorna  ever  appeared  at  all,  nor  even  the  faintest 
sign  of  her.  And  another  thing  occurred  as  well,  which  vexed 
me  more  than  it  need  have  done,  for  so  small  a  matter.  And 
this  was  that  my  little  offering  of  the  trout,  and  the  new-laid 
eggs,  was  carried  off  in  the  coolest  manner  by  that  vile  Carver 
Doone.  For  thinking  to  keep  them  the  fresher  and  nicer, 
away  from  so  much  liaudling,  I  laid  them  in  a  little  bed  of 
reeds  by  the  side  of  the  water,  and  placed  some  dog-leaves 
over  them.  And  when  I  had  quite  forgotten  about  them,  and 
was  watching  from  my  hiding-place  beneath  the  willow-tree 
(for  I  liked  not  to  enter  Lorna's  bower,  without  her  permis- 
sion; except  just  to  peep  that  she  was  not  there),  and  while  I 
was  turning  the  ring  in  my  pocket,  having  just  svxm  the  new 
moon,  T  Vjecamo  aware  of  a  great  man  coining  leisurely  down 
the  valley.  He  had  a  broa(l-l)rimmed  hat,  and  a  leather 
jerkin,  and  heavy  jack  boots  to  liis  middle  thigh,  and  what 
was  worst  of  all  for  me,  on  his  shoulder  lie  bore  a  long  car- 


222  LOBNA    DOONE. 

bine.  Having  nothing  to  meet  him  withal  but  my  staff,  and 
desiring  to  avoid  disturbance,  I  retired  promptly  into  the 
chasm,  keeping  the  tree  betwixt  us,  that  he  might  not  descry 
me,  and  watching  from  behind  the  jut  of  a  rock,  where  now  I 
had  scraped  myself  a  neat  little  hole  for  the  purpose. 

Presently  the  great  man  reappeared,  being  now  within  fifty 
yards  of  me,  and  the  light  still  good  enough,  as  he  drew 
nearer,  for  me  to  descry  his  features :  and  though  I  am  not  a 
judge  of  men's  faces,  there  was  something  in  his  which 
turned  me  cold,  as  though  with  a  kind  of  horror.  Not  that 
it  was  an  ugly  face ;  nay,  rather  it  seemed  a  handsome  one,  so 
far  as  mere  form  and  line  might  go,  full  of  strength,  and  vigor, 
and  will,  and  steadfast  resolution.  From  the  short  black  hair 
above  the  broad  forehead,  to  the  long  black  beard  descending 
below  the  curt  bold  chin,  there  was  not  any  curve,  or  glimpse 
of  weakness,  or  of  afterthought.  Nothing  playful,  nothing 
pleasant,  nothing  with  a  track  for  smiles;  nothing  which  a 
friend  could  like,  and  laugh  at  him  for  having.  And  yet  he 
might  have  been  a  good  man  (for  I  have  known  very  good 
men  so  fortified  by  their  own  strange  ideas  of  God):  I  say 
that  he  might  have  seemed  a  good  man,  but  for  the  cold  and 
cruel  hankering  of  his  steel-blue  eyes. 

Now  let  no  one  suppose  for  a  minute,  that  I  saw  all  this  in 
a  moment;  for  I  am  very  slow,  and  take  a  long  time  to  digest 
thino-s ;  only  I  like  to  set  down,  and  have  done  with  it,  all 
the  results  of  my  knowledge,  though  they  be  not  manifold. 
But  what  I  said  to  myself,  just  then,  was  no  more  than  this : 
"What  a  fellow  to  have  Lorna!  "  Having  my  sense  of  right 
so  outraged  (although,  of  course,  I  would  never  allow  her  to 
go  so  far  as  that),  I  almost  longed  that  he  might  thrust  his 
head  in  to  look  after  me.  For  there  I  was,  with  my  ash  staff 
clubbed,  ready  to  have  at  him,  and  not  ill  inclined  to  do  so ; 
if  only  he  would  come  where  strength,  not  fire-arms,  must 
decide  it.  However,  he  suspected  nothing  of  my  dangerous 
neighborhood;  but  walked  his  round  like  a  sentinel,  and  turned 
at  the  brink  of  the  water. 

Then  as  he  marched  back  again,  along  the  margin  of  the 
stream,  he  espied  my  little  hoard,  covered  up  with  dog-leaves. 
He  saw  that  the  leaves  were  upside  down,  and  this,  of  course, 
drew  his  attention.  I  saw  him  stoop,  and  lay  bare  the  fish, 
and  the  eggs  set  a  little  way  from  them;  and  in  my  simple 
heart  I  thought,  that  now  he  knew  all  about  me.  But  to  my 
surprise,  he  seemed  well-pleased;  and  his  harsh  short  laugh- 
ter came  to  me  without  echo,  — • 


FEEDING    OF  THE  PIGS.  223 

"Ha,  lia!  Charlie  boy!  Fisherman  Charlie,  have  I  caught 
thee  setting  bait  for  Lorna  ?  Now  I  understand  thy  fishings, 
and  the  robbing  of  Counsellor's  hen  roost.  May  I  never  have 
good  roasting,  if  I  have  it  not  to-night,  and  roast  thee,  Charlie, 
afterwards !  " 

With  this  he  calmly  packed  up  my  fish,  and  all  the  best  of 
dear  Annie's  eggs;  and  went  away  chuckling  steadfastly,  to 
his  home,  if  one  may  call  it  so.  But  I  was  so  thoroughly 
grieved  and  stung,  by  this  most  impudent  robbery,  that  I 
started  forth  from  my  rocky  screen  with  the  intention  of  pur- 
suing him,  until  my  better  sense  arrested  me,  barely  in  time 
to  escape  his  eyes.  For  I  said  to  myself,  that  even  suppos- 
ing I  could  contend  unarmed  with  him,  it  would  be  the  greatest 
folly  in  the  world,  to  have  my  secret  access  known,  and  per- 
haps a  fatal  barrier  placed  between  Lorna  and  myself,  and  I 
knew  not  what  trouble  brought  upon  her,  all  for  the  sake  of  a 
few  eggs  and  fishes.  It  was  better  to  bear  this  trifling  loss, 
however  ignominious  and  goading  to  the  spirit,  than  to  risk 
my  love  and  Lorna' s  welfare,  and  perhaps  be  shot  into  the 
bargain.  And  I  think  that  all  will  agree  with  me,  that  I 
acted  for  the  wisest,  in  withdrawing  to  my  shelter,  though 
deprived  of  eggs  and  fishes. 

Having  waited  (as  I  said)  until  there  was  no  chance  what- 
ever of  my  love  appearing,  I  hastened  homeward  very  sadly; 
and  the  wind  of  early  autumn  moaned  across  the  moorland. 
All  the  beauty  of  the  harvest,  all  the  gaiety  was  gone,  and  the 
early  fall  of  dusk  was  like  a  weight  upon  me.  Nevertheless, 
I  went,  every  evening  thenceforward  for  a  fortnight;  hoping, 
every  time  in  vain,  to  find  my  hope  and  comfort.  And  mean- 
while, what  perplexed  me  most  was  that  the  signals  were 
replaced,  in  order  as  agreed  upon,  so  that  Lorna  could  scarcely 
be  restrained  by  any  rigor. 

One  time,  I  had  a  narrow  chance  of  being  shot  and  settled 
with;  and  it  befell  me  thus.  I  was  waiting  very  carelessly, 
being  now  a  little  desperate,  at  the  entrance  to  the  glen, 
instead  of  watcliing  through  my  sight-hole,  as  the  proper 
practice  was.  Suddenly  a  ball  went  by  me,  with  a  whizz  and 
wliistle,  passing  tlii-ougli  my  liat,  and  swee])ing  it  away  all 
folded  up.  My  soft  hat  fluttered  far  down  the  stream,  before 
I  had  time  to  go  after  it,  and  with  the  help  of  both  wind  and 
water,  was  fifty  yards  gone  in  a  moment.  At  this,  I  had  just 
enough  mind  left,  to  shrink  back  very  suddenly,  and  lurk  very 
still  and  closely;  for  I  knew  what  a  narrow  escape  it  liad 
been,  as   I   heard  the  bullet,  hard  set   by  tlie    powder,  sing 


224  LOENA   BOONE. 

mournfully  down  the  chasm,  like  a  drone  banished  out  of  the 
hive.  And  as  I  peered  through  my  little  cranny,  I  saw  a 
wreath  of  smoke  still  floating,  where  the  thickness  was  of  the 
withy -bed:  and  presently  Carver  Doone  came  forth,  having 
stopped  to  reload  his  piece  perhaps,  and  ran  very  swiftly  to 
the  entrance,  to  see  what  he  had  shot. 

Sore  trouble  had  I  to  keep  close  quarters,  from  the  slipperi- 
ness  of  the  stone  beneath  me,  with  the  water  sliding  over  it. 
My  foe  came  quite  to  the  verge  of  the  fall,  where  the  river 
began  to  comb  over;  and  there  he  stopped  for  a  minute  or  two, 
on  the  iitmost  edge  of  dry  land,  iipon  the  very  spot  indeed 
where  I  had  fallen  senseless,  when  I  clomb  it  in  my  boyhood. 
I  could  hear  him  breathing  hard  and  grunting,  as  in  doubt  and 
discontent,  for  he  stood  within  a  yard  of  me,  and  I  kept  my 
right  list  ready  for  him,  if  he  should  discover  me.  Then  at 
the  foot  of  the  waterside,  my  black  hat  suddenly  appeared, 
tossing  in  white  foam,  and  fluttering  like  a  raven  wounded. 
Now  I  had  doubted  which  hat  to  take,  when  I  left  home  that 
day ;  till  I  thought  that  the  black  became  me  best,  and  might 
seem  kinder  to  Lorna. 

"  Have  I  killed  thee,  old  bird,  at  last  ?  "  my  enemy  cried 
in  triumph;  "  'tis  the  third  time  I  have  shot  at  thee,  and  thou 
wast  beginning  to  mock  me.  No  more  of  thy  cursed  croaking 
now,  to  wake  me  in  the  morning.  Ha,  ha!  there  are  not 
many  who  get  three  chances  from  Carver  Doone;  and  none 
ever  go  beyond  it." 

I  laughed  Avithin  myself  at  this,  as  he  strode  away  in  his 
triumph;  for  was  not  this  his  third  chance  of  me,  and  he  no 
whit  the  wiser  ?  And  then  I  thought  that  perhaps  the  chance 
might  some  day  be  on  the  other  side. 

For  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  heartily  tired  of  lurking  and 
playing  bo-peep  so  long;  to  which  nothing  could  have  recon- 
ciled me,  except  my  fear  for  Lorna.  And  here  I  saw  was  a 
man  of  strength  fit  for  me  to  encounter,  such  as  I  had  never 
met,  but  would  be  glad  to  meet  with;  having  found  no  man  of 
late,  who  needed  not  my  mercy,  at  wrestling,  or  at  single- 
stick. And  growing  more  and  more  uneasy,  as  I  found  no 
Lorna,  I  would  have  tried  to  force  the  Doone  Glen  from  the 
upper  end,  and  take  my  chance  of  getting  back,  but  for  Annie 
and  her  prayers. 

Now  that  same  night  I  think  it  was,  or  at  any  rate  the  next 
one,  that  I  noticed  Betty  Muxworthy  going  on  most  strangely. 
She  made  the  queerest  signs  to  me,  when  nobody  was  looking, 
and  laid  her  fingers  on  her  lips,  and  pointed  over  her  shoul- 


FEEDING    OF  THE  PIGS.  225 

der.  But  I  took  little  heed  of  her,  being  in  a  kind  of  dudgeon, 
and  oppressed  with  evil  luck;  believing  too  that  all  she 
wanted,  was  to  have  some  little  grumble  about  some  petty 
grievance. 

But  presently  she  poked  me  with  the  heel  of  a  fire -bundle, 
and  passing  close  to  my  ear  Avhispered,  so  that  none  else  could 
hear  her,  "Larna  Doo-un." 

By  these  words  I  was  so  startled,  that  I  turned  round  and 
stared  at  her;  but  she  pretended  not  to  know  it,  and  began 
with  all  her  might  to  scour  an  empty  crock  with  a  besom. 

"  Oh,  Betty,  let  me  help  you !  That  work  is  much  too  hard 
for  you,"  I  cried  with  a  sudden  chivalry,  which  only  won 
rude  answer. 

"  Zeed  me  adooing  of  thic,  every  naight  last  ten  year,  Jan, 
wiout  vindin'  out  how  hard  it  wor.  But  if  zo  bee  thee  wants 
to  help,  carr  pegs'  bucket  for  me.  Massy,  if  I  ain't  forgotten 
to  fade  the  pegs  till  now." 

Favoring  me  with  another  wink,  to  which  I  now  paid  the 
keenest  heed,  Betty  went  and  fetched  the  lanthorn  from  the 
hook  inside  the  door.  Then  when  she  had  kindled  it,  not 
allowing  me  any  time  to  ask  what  she  was  after,  she  went  out- 
side, and  pointed  to  the  great  bock  of  wash,  and  riddlings,  and 
brown  hulkage  (for  we  ground  our  own  corn  ahvays),  and 
though  she  knew  tliat  Bill  Dadds  and  Jem  Slocombe  had  full 
work  to  carry  it  on  a  pole  (with  another  to  help  to  sling  it), 
she  said  to  me  as  quietly  as  a  maiden  might  ask  one  to  carry 
a  glove,  "Jan  Ridd,  carr  thic  thing  for  me." 

So  I  carried  it  for  her,  without  any  words ;  wondering  what 
she  was  up  to  next,  and  whether  she  had  ever  heard  of  being 
too  hard  on  the  willing  horse.  And  when  we  came  to  hog- 
pound,  she  turned  upon  me  suddenly,  with  the  lanthorn  she 
was  bearing,  and  saw  that  I  had  the  bock  by  one  hand  very 
easily. 

"Jan  Ridd,"  she  said,  "there  be  no  other  man  in  England 
cud  a'dood  it.     Now  thee  shalt  have  Larna." 

While  I  Avas  wondering  how  my  chance  of  having  Lorna 
could  depend  upon  my  power  to  carry  pig's-wash,  and  how 
Betty  could  have  any  voice  in  the  matter  (whicli  seemed  to 
depend  upon  her  decision),  and  in  short,  while  I  was  all 
abroad  as  to  her  knowledge^  and  every  thing,  the  pigs,  who  had 
been  fast  asleej)  and  dreaming  in  thcnr  em})tin('ss,  awoke  with 
one  accord  at  the  goodness  of  the  smell  around  them.  They 
had  ri'signed  themselves,  as  even  pigs  do,  to  a  kind  of  fast, 
hopin;;  to  '>reak  their  fast  more  sweetly  on  the  morrow  morn- 

YOL.   I.  —  16 


226  LOENA   BOONE. 

ing.  But  now  tliey  tumbled  out  all  headlong,  pigs  below  and 
pigs  above,  pigs  point-ldank  and  pigs  across,  pigs  courant  and 
pigs  rampant,  but  all  alike  prepared  to  eat,  and  all  in  good 
cadence  squeaking. 

"Tak  smarl  boocket,  and  bale  un  out;  wad  'e  waste  sick 
stoof  as  tliic  here  be?"  So  Betty  set  me  to  feed  the  pigs, 
Avhile  she  held  the  lanthorn;  and  knowing  what  she  was,  I 
saw  that  she  would  not  tell  me  another  word,  until  all  the 
pigs  were  served.  And  in  truth  no  man  could  well  look  at 
them,  and  delay  to  serve  them,  they  were  all  expressing  appe- 
tite in  so  forcible  a  manner;  some  running  to  and  fro,  and 
rubbing,  and  squealing  as  if  from  starvation,  some  rushing 
down  to  the  oaken  troughs,  and  poking  each  other  away  from 
them ;  and  the  kindest  of  all  putting  up  their  fore-feet  on  the 
top  rail  of  the  hog-pound,  and  blinking  their  little  eyes,  and 
grunting  prettily  to  coax  us ;  as  who  should  say,  "  I  trust  you 
now ;  you  will  be  kind,  I  know,  and  give  me  the  first  and  the 
very  best  of  it." 

"  Oppen  ge-at  now,  wull  'e,  Jan  ?  Maind,  young  sow  wi' 
the  baible  back  arlway  hath  first  toorn  of  it,  'cos  I  brought 
her  up  on  my  lap,  I  did.  Zuck,  zuck,  zuck!  How  her  stickth 
her  tail  up ;  do  me  good  to  zee  un !  Now  thiccy  trough,  thee 
zany,  and  tak  thee  girt  legs  out  o'  the  wai.  Wish  they  wud 
gie  thee  a  good  baite,  niak  thee  hop  a  bit  vaster,  I  reckon. 
Hit  that  there  girt  ozebird  over's  back  wi'  the  broomstick,  he 
be  robbing  of  my  young  zow.  Choog,  choog,  choog!  and  a 
drap  more  left  in  the  dipping-pail." 

"Come  now,  Betty,"  I  said,  when  all  the  pigs  were  at  it, 
sucking,  swilling,  munching,  guzzling,  thrusting,  and  ousting, 
and  spilling  the  food  upon  the  backs  of  their  brethren  (as 
great  men  do  with  their  charity),  "come  now,  Betty,  how 
much  longer  am  I  to  wait  for  your  message  ?  Surely  I  am  as 
good  as  a  pig." 

"Dunno  as  thee  be,  Jan.  No  strakiness  in  thy  bakkon. 
And  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  Jan,  thee  zed,  a  wake  agone 
last  Vriday,  as  how  I  had  got  a  girt  be-ard.  Wull  'e  stick  to 
that  now,  Maister  Jan?  " 

"No,  no,  Betty,  certainly  not;  I  made  a  mistake  about  it. 
I  should  have  said  a  becoming  mustachio,  such  as  you  may 
well  be  proud  of." 

"Then  thee  be  a  laiar,  Jan  Kidd.  Zay  so,  laike  a  man, 
lad." 

"  Not  exactly  that,  Betty ;  but  I  made  a  great  mistake :  and 
I  humbly  ask  your  pardon;  and  if  such  a  thing  as  a  croAvr 
piece,  Betty " 


FEEDING   OF  THE  PIGS.  227 

"  No  fai,  no  f ai !  "  said  Betty,  however  she  put  it  into  her 
pocket;  "now,  tak  my  advice,  Jan;  thee  marry  Zally  Snowe." 

"Not  with  all  England  for  her  dowry.  Oh  Betty,  you 
know  better." 

"Ah's  me!  I  know  much  worse,  Jan.  Break  thy  poor 
mother's  heart  it  will.  And  to  think  of  arl  the  dannger! 
Dost  love  Larna  now  so  much?" 

"  With  all  the  strength  of  my  heart  and  soul.  I  will  have 
her,  or  I  will  die,  Betty." 

"  Wull.  Thee  will  die  in  aither  case.  But  it  baint  for  me 
to  argify.     And  do  her  love  thee  too,  Jan?  " 

"  I  hope  she  does,  Betty.  I  hope  she  does.  What  do  you 
think  about  it?  " 

"Ah,  then  I  may  hold  my  tongue  to  it.  Knaw  what  boys 
and  maidens  be,  as  well  as  I  knaw  young  pegs.  I  myzell 
been  o'  that  zort  one  taime,  every  bit  so  well  as  you  be." 
And  Betty  held  the  lanthorn  up,  and  defied  me  to  deny  it ;  and 
the  light  through  the  horn  showed  a  gleam  in  her  eyes,  such 
as  I  had  never  seen  there  before.  "No  odds,  no  odds  about 
that,"  she  continued;  "mak'  a  fool  of  myzell  to  spake  of  it. 
Arl  gone  into  churchyard.  But  it  be  a  lucky  foolery  for  thee, 
my  boy,  I  can  tull  'ee.  For  I  love  to  see  the  love  in  thee. 
Coom'th  over  me  as  the  spring  do,  though  I.  be  naigh  three 
score.  Now,  Jan,  I  will  tell  thee  one  thing,  can't  abear  to 
zee  thee  vretting  so.  Hould  thee  head  down,  same  as  they 
pegs  do." 

So  I  bent  my  head  quite  close  to  her ;  and  she  whispered  in 
my  ear,  "Goo  of  a  marning,  thee  girt  soft.  Her  can't  get 
out  of  an  avening  now,  her  hath  zent  word  to  me,  to  tull  'ee." 

In  the  glory  of  my  delight  at  this,  I  bestowed  upon  Betty 
a  chaste  salute,  with  all  the  pigs  for  witnesses ;  and  she  took 
it  not  amiss,  considering  how  long  she  had  been  out  of  prac- 
tice. But  she  fell  back  then,  like  a  broom  on  its  handle,  and 
stared  at  me,  feigning  anger. 

"Oh  fai,  oh  fai!  Lunnon  impudence,  I  doubt.  I  vear  thee 
hast  gone  on  zadly,  Jan." 


228  LORNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AN    EARLY    MORNING    CALL. 

Op  course  I  was  up  the  very  next  morning  before  the  Octo- 
ber sunrise,  and  away  tlirough  the  wild  and  the  woodland 
towards  the  Bagworthy  water,  at  the  foot  of  the  long  cascade. 
The  rising  of  the  sun  was  noble  in  the  cold  and  warmth  of  it ; 
peeping  down  the  spread  of  light,  he  raised  his  shoulder 
heavily  over  the  edge  of  gray  mountain,  and  wavering  length 
of  upland.  Beneath  his  gaze  the  dew-fogs  dipped,  and  crept 
to  the  hollow  places;  then  stole  away  in  line  and  column, 
holding  skirts,  and  clinging  subtly  at  the  sheltering  corners, 
where  rock  hung  over  grass-land;  while  the  brave  lines  of  the 
hills  came  forth,  one  beyond  other  gliding. 

Then  the  woods  arose  in  folds,  like  drapery  of  awakened 
mountains,  stately  with  a  depth  of  awe,  and  memory  of  the 
tempests.  Autumn's  mellow  hand  was  on  them,  as  they 
owned  already,  touched  with  gold,  and  red,  and  olive ;  and  their 
joy  towards  the  sun  was  less  to  a  bridegroom  than  a  father. 

Yet  before  the  floating  impress  of  the  woods  could  clear 
itself,  suddenly  the  gladsome  light  leaped  over  hill  and  valley, 
casting  amber,  blue,  and  purple,  and  a  tint  of  rich  red  rose, 
according  to  the  scene  they  lit  on,  and  the  curtain  flung  around; 
yet  all  alike  dispelling  fear  and  the  cloven  hoof  of  darkness, 
all  on  the  wings  of  hope  advancing,  and  proclaiming,  "  God  is 
here."  Then  life  and  joy  sprang  reassured  from  every  crouch- 
ing hollow ;  every  flower,  and  bud,  and  bird,  had  a  fluttering 
sense  of  them ;  and  all  the  flashing  of  God's  gaze  merged  into 
soft  beneficence. 

So  perhaps  shall  break  upon  us  that  eternal  morning,  when 
crag  and  chasm  shall  be  no  more,  neither  hill  and  valley,  nor 
great  unvintaged  ocean;  when  glory  shall  not  scare  happi- 
ness, neither  happiness  envy  glory;  but  all  things  shall  arise 
and  shine  in  the  light  of  the  Father's  countenance,  because 
itself  is  risen. 

Who  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  upon  both  the  just  and  the 
unjust.  And  surely  but  for  the  saving  clause,  Doone  Glen  had 
been  in  darkness.  Now,  as  I  stood  with  scanty  breath  —  for 
few  men  could  have  won  that  climb  —  at  the  top  of  the  long 
defile,  and  the  bottom  of  the  mountain  gorge,  all  of  myself, 
and  the  pain  of  it,  and  the  cark  of  my  discontent  fell  away 


AN  EARLY  MORNING    CALL.  229 

into  wonder  and  rapture.  Eor  I  cannot  help  seeing  things 
now  and  then,  slow-witted  as  I  have  a  right  to  be;  and  per- 
haps because  it  comes  so  rarely,  the  sight  dweUs  with  me, 
like  a  picture. 

The  bar  of  rock,  with  the  water-cleft  breaking  steeply- 
through  it,  stood  bold  and  bare,  and  dark  in  shadow,  gray  with 
red  gullies  down  it.  But  the  sun  was  beginning  to  glisten 
over  the  comb  of  the  eastern  highland,  and  through  an  arch- 
way of  the  wood  hung  with  old  nests  and  ivy.  The  lines  of 
many  a  leaning  tree  were  thrown,  from  the  cliffs  of  the  fore- 
land, down  upon  the  sparkling  grass,  at  the  foot  of  the  west- 
ern crags.  And  through  the  devry  meadow's  breast,  fringed 
with  shade,  but  touched  on  one  side  with  the  sun-smile,  ran 
the  crystal  water,  curving  in  its  brightness,  like  diverted  hope. 

On  either  bank,  the  blades  of  grass,  making  their  last 
autumn  growth,  pricked  their  spears  and  crisped  their  tuftings 
with  the  pearly  purity.  The  tenderness  of  their  green  ap- 
x^eared  under  the  glaucous  mantle ;  while  that  gray  suffusion, 
which  is  the  blush  of  green  life,  spread  its  damask  chastity. 
Even  then  my  soul  was  lifted,  worried  though  my  mind  was : 
who  can  see  such  large  kind  doings,  and  not  be  ashamed  of 
selfish  grief  ? 

Not  only  unashamed  of  grief,  but  much  abashed  with  joy, 
was  I,  when  I  saw  my  Lorna  coming,  purer  than  the  morning 
dew,  than  the  sun  more  bright  and  clear.  That  which  made 
me  love  her  so,  that  which  lifted  my  heart  to  her,  as  the  Spring 
wind  lifts  the  clouds,  was  the  gayness  of  her  nature,  and  its 
inborn  playfulness.  And  yet  all  this  with  maiden  shame,  a 
conscious  dream  of  things  unknown,  and  a  sense  of  fate  about 
them. 

Down  the  valley  still  she  came,  not  witting  that  I  looked  at 
her,  having  ceased  (through  my  own  misprision)  to  expect  me 
yet  awhile ;  or  at  least  she  told  herself  so.  In  the  joy  of  awak- 
ened life,  and  brightness  of  the  morning,  she  had  cast  all  care 
away,  and  seemed  to  float  upon  the  sunrise,  like  a  buoyant 
silver  wave.  Suddenly  at  sight  of  me,  for  I  leaped  fortli  at 
once,  in  fear  of  seeming  to  watch  her  unawares,  the  bloom  upon 
her  cheeks  was  deepened,  and  the  radiance  of  her  eyes;  and 
she  came  to  meet  me  gladly. 

"At  last  then,  you  are  come,  John.  I  thouglit  you  had 
forgotten  me.  I  could  not  make  you  understand  —  they  have 
kept  me  prisoner  every  evening:  but  come  into  my  house; 
you  are  in  danger  here." 

Meanwhile  I  could  not  answer,  being  overcome  with  joy;  but 


£30  LORNA  BOONE. 

followed  to  her  little  grotto,  where  I  had  been  twice  before 
I  knew  that  the  crowning  moment  of  my  life  was  coming — - 
that  Lorna  would  own  her  love  for  me. 

She  made  for  awhile  as  if  she  dreamed  not  of  the  meaning 
of  my  gaze,  but  tried  to  speak  of  other  things,  faltering  now 
and  then,  and  mantling  with  a  richer  damask  below  her  long 
eyelashes. 

'"  This  is  not  what  I  came  to  know,"  I  whispered  very  softly; 
"you  know  what  I  am  come  to  ask." 

"  If  you  are  come  on  purpose  to  ask  any  thing,  why  do  you 
delay  so?  "  She  turned  away  very  bravely,  but  I  saw  that  her 
lips  were  trembling. 

"  I  delay  so  long,  because  I  fear;  because  my  whole  life  hangs 
in  balance  on  a  single  word ;  because  what  I  have  near  me  now 
may  never  more  be  near  me  after,  though  more  than  all  the 
world,  or  than  a  thousand  worlds,  to  me."  As  I  spoke  these 
words  of  passion  in  a  low  soft  voice,  Lorna  trembled  more  and 
more;  but  she  made  no  answer,  neither  yet  looked  up  at  me. 

"I  have  loved  you  long  and  long,"  I  pursued,  being  reckless 
now ;  "  when  you  were  a  little  child,  as  a  boy  I  worshipped  you : 
then  when  I  saw  you  a  comely  girl,  as  a  stripling  I  adored  you: 
now  that  you  are  a  full-grown  maiden,  all  the  rest  I  do,  and 
more, —  I  love  you,  more  than  tongue  can  tell,  or  heart  can  hold 
in  silence.  I  have  waited  long  and  long;  and  though  I  am  so  far 
below  you,  I  can  wait  no  longer;  but  must  have  my  answer." 

''You  have  been  very  faitliful,  John,"  she  murmured  to  the 
fern  and  moss;  "I  suppose  I  must  reward  you." 

"  That  will  not  do  for  me,"  I  said;  "  I  will  not  have  reluctant 
liking,  nor  assent  for  pity's  sake;  which  only  means  endurance. 
I  must  have  all  love,  or  none ;  I  must  have  your  heart  of  hearts ; 
even  as  you  have  mine,  Lorna." 

AVliile  I  spoke,  she  glanced  up  shyly  through  her  fluttering 
lashes,  to  prolong  my  doubt  one  moment,  for  her  own  delicious 
pride.  Then  she  opened  wide  upon  me  all  the  glorious  depth 
and  softness  of  her  loving  eyes,  and  flung  both  arms  around 
my  neck,  and  answered  with  her  heart  on  mine  — 

"  Darling,  you  have  won  it  all.  I  shall  never  be  my  own 
again.     I  am  yours,  my  own  one,  for  ever  and  for  ever." 

I  am  sure  I  know  not  what  I  did,  or  what  I  said  thereafter, 
being  overcome  with  transport  by  her  words  and  at  her  gaze. 
Only  one  thing  I  remember,  when  she  raised  her  bright  lips 
to  me,  like  a  child,  for  me  to  kiss,  such  a  smile  of  sweet  temp- 
tation met  me  through  her  flowing  hair,  that  I  almost  forgot 
my  manners,  giving  her  no  time  to  breathe. 


TWO  NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       231 

"That  will  do,"  said  Lorna  gently,  but  violently  blushing; 
''  for  the  present  that  will  do,  John.  And  now  remember  one 
thing,  dear.  All  tlie  kindness  is  to  be  on  my  side ;  and  you 
are  to  be  very  distant,  as  behoves  to  a  young  maiden;  except 
when  I  invite  you.  But  you  may  kiss  my  hand,  John ;  oh  yes, 
you  may  kiss  my  hand,  you  know.  Ah  to  be  sure !  I  had  for- 
gotten; how  very  stupid  of  me!  " 

For  by  this  I  had  taken  one  sweet  hand  and  gazed  on  it,  with 
the  pride  of  all  the  world  to  think  that  such  a  lovely  thing  was 
mine;  and  then  I  slipped  my  little  ring  upon  the  wedding 
linger;  and  this  time  Lorna  kept  it,  and  looked  with  fondness 
on  its  beauty,  and  clung  to  me  with  a  flood  of  tears. 

"Every  time  you  cry,"  said  I,  drawing  her  closer  to  me,  "I 
shall  consider  it  an  invitation  not  to  be  too  distant.  There 
now,  none  shall  make  you  weep.  Darling,  you  shall  sigh  no 
more,  but  live  in  peace  and  happiness,  with  me  to  guard  and 
cherish  you:  and  who  shall  dare  to  vex  you?"  But  she  drew 
a  long  sad  sigh,  and  looked  at  the  ground  with  the  great  tears 
rolling,  and  pressed  one  hand  upon  the  trouble  of  her  pure 
young  breast. 

"  It  can  never,  never,  be, "  she  murmured  to  herself  alone : 
"Who  am  I,  to  dream  of  it?  Something  in  my  heart  tells  me, 
it  can  be  so  never,  never." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

TWO    NEGATIVES    MAKE    AN    AFFIRMATIVE. 

There  was,  however,  no  possibility  of  depressing  me  at  such 
a  time.  To  be  loved  by  Lorna,  the  sweet,  the  pure,  the  play- 
ful one,  the  fairest  creature  on  God's  earth  and  the  most 
enchanting,  the  lady  of  high  l)ii'th  and  mind;  tliat  I,  a  mere 
clumsy  blundering  yeoman,  without  wit,  or  wealth,  or  lineage, 
should  have  won  that  loving  heart  to  be  my  own  for  ever,  was 
a  thought  no  fears  could  lessen,  and  no  chance  could  steal 
from  me. 

Therefore,  at  her  own  entreaty  taking  a  very  quick  adieu, 
and  by  her  own  invitation  an  exceeding  kind  one,  I  hurried 
lionie  witli  deep  exulting,  yet  some  sad  misgivings,  for  Lorna 
harl  made  me,  promise  now  to  tell  my  mother  every  tiling;  as 
indeed  I  always  meant  to  do,  wlieii  my  suit  sliould  be  gone  too 
far  to  stop.     1  knew  of  course  that  my  dear  mother  would  be 


232  LOENA   DOONE. 

greatly  moved  and  vexed,  the  heirship  of  Glen  Doone  not  being 
a  very  desirable  dower;  but  in  spite  of  that,  and  all  disap- 
pointment as  to  little  Ruth  Huckaback,  feeling  my  mother's 
tenderness  and  deep  affection  to  me,  and  forgiving  nature,  I 
doubted  not  that  before  very  long  she  would  view  the  matter 
as  I  did.  Moreover  I  felt  that  if  once  I  could  get  her  only  to 
look  at  Lorna,  she  would  so  love  and  glory  in  her,  that  I  should 
obtain  all  praise  and  thanks,  perchance  without  deserving  them. 

Unluckily  for  my  designs,  who  should  be  sitting  down  at 
breakfast  with  my  mother  and  the  rest  but  Squire  Faggus,  as 
everybody  now  began  to  entitle  him?  I  noticed  something  odd 
about  him,  something  uncomfortable  in  his  manner,  and  a  lack 
of  that  ease  and  humor,  which  had  been  wont  to  distinguish 
him.  He  took  his  breakfast  as  it  came,  without  a  single  joke 
about  it,  or  preference  of  this  to  that ;  but  with  sly  soft  looks 
at  Annie,  who  seemed  unable  to  sit  quiet,  or  to  look  at  any  one 
steadfastly.  I  feared  in  my  heart  what  was  coming  on,  and 
felt  truly  sorry  for  poor  mother.  After  breakfast  it  became 
my  duty  to  see  to  the  ploughing  of  a  barley-stubble  ready  for 
the  sowing  of  French  grass,  and  I  asked  Tom  Faggus  to  come 
with  me;  but  he  refused,  and  I  knew  the  reason.  Being 
resolved  to  allow  him  fair  field  to  himself,  though  with  great 
displeasure  that  a  man  of  such  illegal  repute  should  marry  into 
our  family,  which  had  always  been  counted  so  honest,  I  carried 
my  dinner  upon  my  back,  and  spent  the  whole  day  with  the 
furrows. 

When  I  returned,  Squire  Faggus  was  gone;  which  appeared 
to  me  but  a  sorry  sign,  inasmuch  as  if  mother  had  taken  kindly 
to  him  and  to  his  intentions,  she  would  surely  have  made  him 
remain  awhile  to  celebrate  the  occasion.  And  presently  no 
doubt  was  left:  for  Lizzie  came  running  to  mset  me,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  woodrick,  and  cried, — 

"  Oh  John,  there  is  such  a  business.  Mother  is  in  such  a 
state  of  mind,  and  Annie  crying  her  eyes  out.  What  do  you 
think?  You  never  would  guess;  though  I  have  suspected  it, 
ever  so  long." 

"  No  need  for  me  to  guess, "  I  replied,  as  though  with  some 
indiiference,  because  of  her  self-important  air;  ''I  knew  all 
about  it  long  ago.  You  have  not  been  crying  much,  I  see,  I 
should  like  you  better,  if  you  had." 

"Why  should  I  cry?  I  like  Tom  Faggus.  He  is  the  only 
one  I  ever  see  with  the  spirit  of  a  man." 

This  was  a  cut,  of  course,  at  me.  Mr.  Faggus  had  won  the 
good  will  of  Lizzie  by  his  hatred  of  the  Doones,  and  vows  that 


TWO  NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       233 

if  he  could  get  a  dozen  men  of  any  courage  to  join  him,  he 
would  pull  their  stronghold  about  their  ears  without  any  more 
ado.  This  malice  of  his  seemed  strange  to  me,  as  he  had  never 
suffered  at  their  hands,  so  far  at  least  as  I  knew;  was  it  to  be 
attributed  to  his  jealousy  of  outlaws  who  excelled  him  in  his 
business?  Xot  being  good  at  repartee,  I  made  no  answer  to 
Lizzie,  having  found  this  course  more  irksome  to  her  than  the 
very  best  invective :  and  so  we  entered  the  house  together ;  and 
mother  sent  at  once  for  me,  while  I  was  trying  to  console  my 
darling  sister  Annie. 

"Oh,  John!  speak  one  good  word  for  me,"  she  cried,  with 
both  hands  laid  in  mine,  and  her  tearful  eyes  looking  up  at  me. 

"Xot  one,  my  pet,  but  a  Innidred,"  I  answered,  kindly 
embracing  her :  "  have  no  fear,  little  sister :  I  am  going  to  make 
your  case  so  bright,  by  comparison  I  mean,  that  mother  will  send 
for  you  in  five  minutes,  and  call  you  her  best,  her  most  duti- 
ful child,  and  praise  Cousin  Tom  to  the  skies,  and  send  a  man 
on  horseback  after  him ;  and  then  you  will  have  a  harder  task 
to  intercede  for  me,  my  dear." 

"Oh  John,  dear  John,  you  won't  tell  her  about  Lorna  —  oh 
not  to-day,  dear." 

"  Yes,  to-day,  and  at  once,  Annie.  I  want  to  have  it  over, 
and  be  done  with  it." 

"  Oh,  but  think  of  her,  dear.  I  am  sure  she  could  not  bear 
it,  after  this  great  shock  already." 

"  She  will  bear  it  all  the  better,"  said  I;  "the  one  will  drive 
the  other  out.  I  know  exactly  what  mother  is.  She  will  be 
desperately  savage  first  with  you,  and  then  with  me,  and  then 
for  a  very  little  while  with  both  of  us  together ;  and  then  she 
will  put  one  against  the  other  (in  her  mind  I  mean)  and  con- 
sider which  was  most  to  blame;  and  in  doing  that  she  will  be 
compelled  to  find  the  best  in  cither's  case,  that  it  may  beat  the 
other ;  and  so  as  the  pleas  come  before  her  mind,  they  will  gain 
upon  the  charges,  both  of  us  being  her  children,  you  know: 
and  before  very  long  (particularly  if  we  botli  keep  out  of  the 
way)  she  will  begin  to  think  that  after  all  she  has  been  a  little 
too  hasty;  ;ind  then  slie  will  remember  how  good  we  have 
always  been  to  lier;  and  liow  like  our  father.  lJ])on  that,  she 
will  think  of  her  own  love-time,  and  sigh  a  good  bit,  and  cry 
a  little,  and  then  smile,  and  send  for  both  of  iis,  and  beg  our 
pardon,  and  call  us  her  two  darlings." 

"Now,  Jolm,  how  on  earth  can  you  know  all  that?"  ex- 
claiined  my  sistcu-,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  gazing  at  me  with  u, 
soft  bright  smile.      "  VV^lio  on  earth  can  liave  tohl  yo\i,  John? 


234  LORNA   BOONE. 

People  to  call  you  stupid  indeed!  Why,  I  feel  that  all  you 
say  is  quite  true,  because  you  describe  so  exactly  what  I  should 
do  myself;  I  mean  —  I  mean  if  I  had  two  children,  who  have 
behaved  as  we  have  done.  But  tell  me,  darling  John,  how  you 
learned  all  this." 

"Never  you  mind,"  I  replied,  with  a  nod  of  some  conceit,  I 
fear :  "  I  must  be  a  fool  if  I  did  not  know  what  mother  is  by 
this  time." 

Now  inasmuch  as  the  thing  befell  according  to  my  predic- 
tion, what  need  for  me  to  dwell  upon  it,  after  saying  how  it 
would  be?  Moreover  I  would  regret  to  write  down  what 
motlier  said  about  Lorna,  in  her  first  surprise  and  tribulation ; 
not  only  because  I  was  grieved  by  the  gross  injustice  of  it, 
and  frightened  motlier  with  her  own  words  (repeated  deeply 
after  her) ;  but  rather  because  it  is  not  well,  when  people 
repent  of  hasty  speech,  to  enter  it  against  them. 

That  is  said  to  be  the  angels'  business ;  and  I  doubt  if  they 
can  attend  to  it  much,  without  doing  injury  to  tliemselves. 

However,  by  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  began  to  go  down 
upon  us,  our  mother  sat  on  the  garden  bench,  with  her  head  on 
my  great  otter-skin  waistcoat  (which  was  waterproof),  and  her 
right  arm  round  our  Annie's  waist,  and  scarcely  knowing  which 
of  us  she  ought  to  make  the  most  of,  or  which  deserved  most 
pity.  Not  that  she  had  forgiven  yet  the  rivals  to  her  love  — 
Tom  Faggus,  I  mean,  and  Lorna, —  but  that  she  was  beginning 
to  think  a  little  better  of  them  now,  and  a  vast  deal  better  of 
her  own  children. 

And  it  helped  her  much  in  this  regard,  that  she  was  not 
flunking  half  so  well  as  usual  of  herself,  or  rather  of  her  own 
judgment;  for  in  good  truth  she  had  no  self,  only  as  it  came 
home  to  her,  by  no  very  distant  road,  but  by  way  of  her  chil- 
dren. A  better  mother  never  lived;  and  can  I,  after  searching 
all  things,  add  another  word  to  tliat? 

And  indeed  poor  Lizzie  was  not  so  very  bad;  but  behaved 
(on  the  whole)  very  well  for  her.  She  was  much  to  be  pitied, 
poor  thing,  and  great  allowances  made  for  her,  as  belonging  to 
a  well-grown  family,  and  a  very  comely  one;  and  feeling  her 
OAvn  shortcomings.  This  made  her  leap  to  the  other  extreme, 
and  reassert  herself  too  much,  endeavoring  to  exalt  the  mind  at 
the  expense  of  the  body;  because  she  had  the  invisible  one  (so 
far  as  can  be  decided)  in  better  share  than  the  visible.  Not 
but  what  she  had  her  points,  and  very  comely  points  of  body; 
lovely  eyes  to  wit,  and  very  beautiful  hands  and  feet  (almost 
as  good  as  Lorna's),  and  a  neck  as  white  as  snow;  but  Lizzie 
was  not  gifted  with  our  gait  and  port,  and  bounding  health. 


TWO   NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       235 

Now,  while  Ave  sate  on  the  garden  bench,  under  the  great 
ash-tree,  we  left  dear  mother  to  take  her  own  way,  and  talk  at 
her  own  pleasure.  Children  almost  always  are  more  wide- 
awake than  tlieir  parents.  The  fathers  and  the  mothers  laugh; 
but  the  young  ones  have  the  best  of  them.  And  now  both 
Annie  knew,  and  I,  that  we  had  gotten  the  best  of  mother; 
and  therefore  we  let  her  lay  down  the  law,  as  if  we  had  been 
two  dollies. 

"Darling  John,"  my  mother  said,  "your  case  is  a  very  hard 
one.  A  young  and  very  romantic  girl  —  God  send  that  I  be 
right  in  my  charitable  view  of  her  —  has  met  an  equally  simple 
boy,  among  great  dangers  and  difficulties,  from  which  my  son 
has  saved  her,  at  the  risk  of  his  life  at  every  step.  Of  course, 
she  became  attached  to  him,  and  looked  up  to  him  in  every 
way,  as  a  superior  being " 

"Come  now,  mother,"  I  said;  " if  you  only  saw  Lorna,  you 
would  look  upon  me  as  the  lowest  dirt " 

"Xo  doubt  I  should,"  my  mother  answered;  "and  the  king, 
and  queen,  and  all  the  royal  family.  Well,  this  poor  angel, 
having  made  up  her  mind  to  take  compassion  on  my  son,  when 
he  had  saved  her  life  so  many  times,  persuades  him  to  marry 
her  out  of  pure  pity,  and  throw  his  poor  mother  overboard. 
And  the  saddest  part  of  it  all  is  this " 

"That  my  mother  will  never,  never,  never  understand  the 
truth,"  said  I. 

"That  is  all  I  wish,"  she  answered;  "just  to  get  at  the 
simple  truth  from  my  own  perception  of  it.  John,  you  are 
very  wise  in  kissing  me;  but  perhaps  you  would  not  be  so  wise 
in  bringing  Lorna  for  an  afternoon,  just  to  see  what  she  thinks 
of  me.  There  is  a  good  saddle  of  mutton  now;  and  there  are 
some  very  good  sausages  left,  on  the  blue  dish  with  the  anchor, 
Annie,  from  the  last  little  sow  we  killed." 

"  As  if  Lorna  would  eat  sausages !  "  said  I,  with  appearance 
of  high  contempt,  though  rejoicing  all  the  while  that  mother 
seemed  to  have  lier  name  so  pat;  and  she  pronounced  it  in  a 
manner  which  made  my  heart  leap  to  my  ears :  "  Lorna  to  eat 
sausages ! " 

"  I  don't  see  why  she  shouldn't,"  my  mother  answered  smil- 
ing; "if  she  means  to  be  a  farmer's  wife,  she  iiuist  take  to 
farmer's  ways,  I  think.      What  do  you  say,  Annie?" 

"She  will  eat  whatever  John  desires,  I  should  hope,"  said 
Annie  gravely;  "particularly  as  I  made  them." 

"Oh  that  I  could  only  get  the  chance  of  trying  her!"  I 
answered;  "  if  you  could  once  behold  her,  mother,  you  would 


236  LORNA   BOONE. 

never  let  her  go  again.  And  she  would  love  you  with  all  her 
heart,  she  is  so  good  and  gentle." 

"  That  is  a  lucky  thing  for  me ;  "  saying  this  my  mother  wept, 
as  she  had  been  doing  off  and  on,  when  no  one  seemed  to  look 
at  her ;  "  otherwise  I  suppose,  John,  she  would  very  soon  turn 
me  out  of  the  farm,  having  you  so  completely  under  her  thumb, 
as  she  seems  to  have.  I  see  now  that  my  time  is  over.  Lizzie 
and  I  will  seek  our  fortunes.     It  is  wiser  so." 

"Now,  mother,"  I  cried;  "will  you  have  the  kindness  not 
to  talk  any  nonsense?  Every  thing  belongs  to  you;  and  so,  I 
hope,  your  children  do.  And  you,  in  turn,  belong  to  us;  as 
you  have  proved  ever  since, —  oh,  ever  since  we  can  remember. 
Why  do  you  make  Annie  cry  so?  You  ought  to  know  better 
than  that." 

Mother  upon  this  went  over  again  all  the  things  she  had  said 
before;  how  many  times  I  know  not;  neither  does  it  matter. 
Only  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it  more,  every  time  of  doing  it.  And 
then  she  said  she  was  an  old  fool ;  and  Annie  (like  a  thorough 
girl)  pulled  her  one  gray  hair  out. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

BUTII    IS    NOT    LIKE    LORNA. 

Although  by  our  mother's  reluctant  consent  a  large  part  of 
the  obstacles  between  Annie  and  her  lover  appeared  to  be 
removed,  on  the  other  hand  Lorna  and  myself  gained  little, 
except  as  regarded  comfort  of  mind,  and  some  ease  to  the  con- 
science. Moreover,  our  chance  of  frequent  meetings  and 
delightful  converse  was  much  impaired,  at  least  for  the  pres- 
ent ;  because  though  mother  was  not  aware  of  my  narrow  escape 
from  Carver  Doone,  she  made  me  promise  never  to  risk  my  life 
by  needless  visits.  And  upon  this  point,  that  is  to  say,  the 
necessity  of  the  visit,  she  was  well  content,  as  she  said,  to 
leave  me  to  my  own  good  sense  and  honor;  only  begging  me 
always  to  tell  her  of  my  intention  beforehand.  This  pledge, 
however,  for  her  own  sake,  I  declined  to  give ;  knowing  how 
wretched  she  would  be  during  all  the  time  of  my  absence ;  and 
in  that  behalf,  I  promised  freely,  that  I  would  always  give  her 
a  full  account  of  my  adventure  upon  returning. 

Now  my  mother,  as  might  be  expected,  began  at  once  to  cast 
about  for  some  means  of  relieving  me  from  all  further  peril,  and 


RUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORN  A.  237 

herself  from  great  anxiety.  She  was  full  of  plans  for  fetching 
Lorna,  in  some  wonderful  manner,  out  of  tlie  power  of  the 
Doones  entirely,  and  into  lier  own  hands,  where  she  was  to 
remain  for  at  least  a  twelvemonth,  learning  all  mother  and 
Annie  could  teach  her  of  dairy  business,  and  farm-house  life, 
and  the  best  mode  of  packing  butter.  And  all  this  arose  from 
my  happening  to  saj^,  witliout  meaning  any  thing,  how  the  poor 
dear  had  longed  for  quiet,  and  a  life  of  simplicity,  and  a  rest 
away  from  violence !  Bless  thee,  mother  —  now  long  in  heaven, 
there  is  no  need  to  bless  thee ;  but  it  often  makes  a  dimness 
now  in  my  well-worn  eyes,  when  I  think  of  thy  loving-kind- 
ness, warmth,  and  romantic  innocence. 

As  to  stealing  my  beloved  from  that  vile  Glen  Doone,  the 
deed  itself  was  not  impossible,  nor  beyond  my  daring;  but  in 
the  first  jDlace  would  she  come,  leaving  her  old  grandfather  to 
die  without  her  tendance?  And  even  if,  through  fear  of  Carver 
and  that  wicked  Counsellor,  she  should  consent  to  fly,  would 
it  be  possible  to  keep  her  without  a  regiment  of  soldiers? 
Would  not  the  Doones  at  once  ride  forth  to  scour  the  country 
for  their  queen,  and  finding  her  (as  they  must  do)  burn  our 
house,  and  murder  us,  and  carry  her  back  triumphantly? 

All  this  I  laid  before  my  mother,  and  to  such  effect,  that  she 
acknowledged,  with  a  sigh,  that  nothing  else  remained  for  me' 
(in  the  present  state  of  matters)  except  to  keep  a  careful  watch 
upon  Lorna  from  safe  distance,  observe  the  policy  of  the  Doones, 
and  wait  for  a  tide  in  their  affairs.  Meanwhile  I  might  even 
fall  in  love  (as  mother  wisely  hinted)  with  a  certain  more 
peaceful  heiress,  although  of  inferior  blood,  who  would  be 
daily  at  my  elbow.  I  am  not  sure  but  what  dear  mother  her- 
self would  have  been  disappointed,  had  I  proved  myself  so 
fickle;  and  my  disdain  and  indignation  at  the  mere  suggestion 
did  not  so  much  displease  her;  for  she  only  smiled  and 
answered :  — 

"Well,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say;  God  knows  what  is  good  for 
us.  Likings  will  not  come  to  order;  otherwise  I  should  not 
be  where  I  am  this  day.  And  of  one  thing  I  am  rather  glad; 
Uncle  Reuben  well  deserves  that  his  pet  scheme  should  mis- 
carry. He  who  called  my  boy  a  coward,  an  ignoble  coward, 
because  he  would  not  join  some  crack-brained  plan  against  the 
valley,  Avliich  sheltered  his  beloved  one!  And  all  the  time 
tliis  dreadful  'coward'  risking  his  life  daily  there,  without  a 
word  to  any  one !  How  glad  I  am  that  you  will  not  have,  for 
all  her  miserable  money,  that  little  dwarfish  grand-daughter  of 
the  insolent  old  miser!" 


238  LORN  A   DOONE. 

She  turned,  and  by  her  side  was  standing  poor  Ruth  Hucka- 
back herself,  white,  and  sad,  and  looking  steadily  at  my 
mother's  face,  which  became  as  red  as  a  plum,  while  her  breath 
deserted  her. 

"If  you  please,  madam,"  said  the  little  maiden,  with  her 
large  calm  eyes  unwavering,  "it  is  not  my  fault,  but  God 
Almighty's  that  I  am  a  little  dwarfish  creature.  I  knew  not 
that  you  regarded  me  with  so  much  contempt  on  that  account ; 
neither  have  you  told  my  grandfather,  at  least  within  my  hear- 
ing, that  he  was  an  insolent  old  miser.  When  I  return  to 
Dulverton,  which  I  trust  to  do  to-morrow  (for  it  is  too  late 
to-day),  I  shall  be  careful  not  to  tell  him  your  opinion  of  him, 
lest  I  should  thwart  any  schemes  you  may  have  upon  his  prop- 
erty. I  thank  you  all  for  jowv  kindness  to  me,  which  has  been 
very  great ;  far  more  than  a  little  dwarfish  creature  could,  for 
her  own  sake,  expect.  I  will  only  add  for  your  further  guid- 
ance, one  more  little  truth.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  my 
grandfather  will  settle  any  of  his  miserable  money  upon  me. 
If  I  offend  him,  as  I  would  in  a  moment,  for  the  sake  of  a  brave 
and  straightforward  man  "  —  here  she  gave  me  a  glance  which 
I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  —  "  my  grandfather,  upright 
as  he  is,  would  leave  me  without  a  shilling.  And  I  often 
wish  it  were  so.     So  many  liiiseries  come  upon  me  from  the 

miserable  money " Here  she  broke  down,  and  burst  out 

crying,  and  ran  away  with  a  faint  good-bye;  while  we  three 
looked  at  one  another,  and  felt  that  we  had  the  worst  of  it. 

"Impudent  little  dwarf!"  said  my  mother,  recovering  her 
breatli  after  ever  so  long.  "  Oh  John,  how  thankful  you 
ought  to  be !     What  a  life  she  would  have  led  you !  " 

"  Well,  I  am  sure !  "  said  Annie,  throwing  her  arms  around 
poor  mother :  "  who  could  have  thought  that  little  atomy  had 
such  an  outrageous  spirit !  For  my  part,  I  cannot  think  how 
she  can  have  been  sly  enough  to  hide  it  in  that  crafty  manner, 
that  John  might  think  her  an  angel!  " 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  I  answered,  laughing,  "I  never  ad- 
mired Ruth  Huckaback  half,  or  a  quarter  so  much,  before. 
She  is  rare  stuff.  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have  married 
her  to-morrow,  if  I  had  never  seen  my  Lorna." 

"  And  a  nice  nobody  I  should  have  been,  in  my  own  house !  " 
cried  mother:  "I  never  can  be  thankful  enough  to  darling 
Lorna  for  saving  me.     Did  you  see  how  her  eyes  Hashed?  " 

"That  I  did;  and  very  fine  they  were.  Now  nine  maidens 
out  of  ten  would  have  feigned  not  to  have  heard  one  word 
that  was  said,  and  have  borne  l^lack  malice  in  their  hearts. 
Come,  Annie,  now,  would  not  you  have  done  so?" 


EUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LOENA.  239 

"I  think,"  said  Annie,  "altliougLof  course  I  cannot  tell, 
you  know,  John,  that  I  should  have  been  ashamed  at  hearing 
what  was  never  meant  for  me,  and  should  have  been  almost  as 
angry  with  myself  as  any  body." 

"So  you  would,"  replied  my  mother;  "so  any  daughter  of 
mine  woukl  have  done,  instead  of  railing  and  reviling.  How- 
ever, I  am  very  sorry  that  any  words  of  mine,  which  the  poor 
little  thing  chose  to  overhear,  should  have  made  her  so  forget 
herself.  I  shall  beg  her  pardon  before  she  goes ;  and  1  shall 
expect  her  to  beg  mine.'' 

"  That  she  will  never  do, "  said  I ;  "  a  more  resolute  little 
maiden  never  yet  had  right  upon  her  side ;  although  it  was  a 
mere  accident.  I  might  have  said  the  same  thing  myself; 
and  she  was  hard  upon  you,  mother  dear." 

After  this  we  said  no  more,  at  least  about  that  matter;  and 
little  Ruth,  the  next  morning,  left  us,  in  spite  of  all  that  we 
could  do.  She  vowed  an  everlasting  friendship  to  my  younger 
sister  Eliza;  but  she  looked  at  Annie  with  some  resentment, 
when  they  said  good-bye,  for  being  so  much  taller.  At  any 
rate  so  Annie  fancied,  but  she  may  have  been  quite  wrong. 
I  rode  beside  the  little  maid  till  far  beyond  Exeford,  when  all 
danger  of  the  moor  was  past,  and  then  I  left  her  with  John 
Fry,  not  wishing  to  be  too  particular,  after  all  the  talk  about 
her  money.  She  had  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  bade  me  fare- 
well, and  she  sent  a  kind  message  home  to  mother,  and  prom- 
ised to  come  again  at  Christmas,  if  she  could  win  permission. 

Upon  the  whole,  my  opinion  was  that  she  had  behaved 
uncommonly  well  for  a  maid  whose  self-love  was  outraged; 
with  spirit,  I  mean,  and  proper  pride;  and  yet  with  a  great 
endeavor  to  forgive,  which  is,  meseems,  the  hardest  of  all 
things  to  a  woman,  outside  of  her  own  family. 

After  this,  for  another  month,  nothing  wortliy  of  notice 
happened,  except  perhaps  that  1  found  it  needful,  according 
to  the  strictest  good  sense  and  honor,  to  visit  Lorna,  im- 
mediately after  my  discourse  with  mother,  and  to  tell  her  all 
about  it.  My  beauty  gave  me  one  sweet  kiss  with  all  her 
heart  (as  she  always  did,  wlien  she  kissed  at  all)  and  I  begged 
for  one  more  to  take  to  our  mother,  and  before  leaving,  I 
obtained  it.  It  is  not  for  me  to  tell  all  slie  said,  even  sup- 
posing (wiiat  is  not  likely)  that  any  one  cared  to  know  it,  being 
more  and  more  peculiar  to  ourselves  and  no  one  else.  But 
one  tiling  that  she  said  was  this,  and  I  took  good  care  to  carry 
it,  word  for  word,  to  my  motlicr  and  Annie;:  — 

"1  never  can  believe,  dear  John,  that  after  all  the  crime 


240  LOENA   BOONE. 

and  outrage  wrought  by  my  reckless  family,  it  ever  can  be 
meant  for  me  to  settle  down  to  peace  and  coiiifort  in  a  simple 
household.  With  all  my  heart  I  long  for  home ;  any  home, 
however  dull  and  wearisome  to  those  used  to  it,  would  seem 
a  paradise  to  me,  if  only  free  from  brawl  and  tumult,  and  such 
as  I  could  call  my  own.  But  even  if  God  would  allow  me 
this,  in  lieu  of  my  wild  inheritance,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
the  Doones  never  can,  and  never  will." 

Again,  when  I  told  her  how  my  mother  and  Annie,  as  well 
as  myself,  longed  to  have  her  at  Plover's  Barrows,  and  teach 
her  all  the  quiet  duties  in  which  she  was  sure  to  take  such 
delight,  she  only  answered  with  a  bright  blush,  that  while  her 
grandfather  was  living  she  would  never  leave  him;  and  that 
even  if  she  were  free,  certain  ruin  was  all  she  should  bring  to 
any  house  that  received  her,  at  least  within  the  utmost  reach 
of  her  amiable  family.  This  was  too  plain  to  be  denied,  and 
seeing  my  dejection  at  it,  she  told  me  bravely  that  we  must 
hope  for  better  times,  if  possible,  and  asked  how  long  I 
would  wait  for  her. 

"Not  a  day  if  I  had  my  will,"  i  answered  very  warmly;  at 
which  she  turned  away  confused,  and  would  not  look  at  me 
for  awhile;  "but  all  my  life,"  I  went  on  to  say,  "if  my  fort- 
une is  so  ill.     And  how  long  would  you  wait  for  me,  Lorna?  " 

"Till  I  could  get  you,"  she  answered  slily,  with  a  smile 
which  was  brighter  to  me  than  the  brightest  wit  could  be. 
"And  now,"  she  continued,  "you  bound  me,  John,  with  a  very 
beautiful  ring  to  you,  and  when  I  dare  not  wear  it,  I  carry  it 
always  on  my  heart.  But  I  will  bind  you  to  me,  you  dearest, 
with  the  very  poorest  and  plainest  thing  that  ever  you  set  eyes 
on.  I  could  give  you  fifty  fairer  ones,  but  they  would  not 
be  honest;  and  I  love  you  for  your  honesty,  and  nothing  else 
of  course,  John;  so  don't  you  be  conceited.  Look  at  it,  what 
a  queer  old  thing!  There  are  some  ancient  marks  upon  it, 
very  grotesque  and  wonderful;  it  looks  like  a  cat  in  a  tree 
almost;  but  never  mind  what  it  looks  like.  This  old  ring 
must  have  been  a  giant's;  therefore  it  will  fit  you  perhaps, 
you  enormous  John.  It  has  been  on  the  front  of  my  old  glass 
necklace  (which  my  grandfather  found  them  taking  away,  and 
very  soon  made  them  give  back  again)  ever  since  I  can  remem- 
ber; and  long  before  that,  as  some  woman  told  me.  Now  you 
seem  very  greatly  amazed;  pray  what  thinks  my  lord  of  it?  " 

"  That  it  is  worth  fifty  of  the  pearl  thing  which  I  gave  you, 
you  darling;  and  that  I  will  not  take  it  from  you." 

"Then  you  will  never  take  me,  that  is  all.  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  a  gentleman " 


EUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORN  A.  241 

"No  gentleman,  dear  —  a  yeomau." 

"  Very  well,  a  yeoman  —  nothing  to  do  with  a  yeoman  who 
will  not  accept  my  love-gage.  So,  if  you  please,  give  it  back 
again,  and  take  your  lovely  ring  back." 

She  looked  at  me  in  such  a  manner,  half  in  earnest,  half  in 
jest,  and  three  times  three  in  love,  that  in  spite  of  all  good 
resolutions,  and  her  own  faint  protest,  I  was  forced  to  aban- 
don all  firm  ideas,  and  kiss  her  till  she  was  quite  ashamed, 
and  her  head  hung  on  my  bosom,  with  the  night  of  her  hair 
shed  over  me.  Then  I  placed  the  pearl  ring  back  on  the  soft 
elastic  bend  of  the  finger  she  held  up  to  scold  me ;  and  on  my 
own  smallest  finger  drew  the  heavy  hoop  she  had  given  me. 
I  considered  this  witli  satisfaction,  until  my  darling  recovered 
herself;  and  then  I  began  very  gravely  about  it,  to  keep  her 
(if  I  could)  from  chiding  me :  — 

"  Mistress  Lorna,  this  is  not  tlie  ring  of  any  giant.  It  is 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  very  ancient  thumb-ring,  such 
as  once  in  my  father's  time  was  ploughed  up  out  of  the  ground 
in  our  farm,  and  sent  to  learned  doctors,  who  told  us  all  about 
it,  but  kept  the  ring  for  their  trouble.  I  will  accept  it,  my 
own  one  love ;  and  it  shall  go  to  my  grave  with  me."  And  so  it 
shall,  unless  there  be  villains  who  would  dare  to  rob  the  dead. 

Now  I  have  spoken  about  this  ring  (though  I  scarcely  meant 
to  do  so,  and  would  rather  keep  to  myself  tilings  so  very  holy) 
because  it  holds  an  important  part  in  the  history  of  my  Lorna. 
I  asked  her  where  the  glass  necklace  was,  from  which  the  ring 
was  fastened,  and  which  she  had  worn  in  her  childhood,  and 
she  answered  that  she  hardly  knew,  but  remembered  tliat  her 
grandfather  had  begged  her  to  give  it  u})  to  him,  when  she 
was  ten  years  old  or  so,  and  had  promised  to  keep  it  for  her, 
UTitil  slie  could  take  care  of  it;  at  the  sanu^  time  giving  her 
Ijack  the  ring,  and  fastening  it  from  her  pretty  neck,  and  tell- 
ing her  to  be  proud  of  it.  And  so  she  always  had  been,  and 
now  from  her  sweet  breast  she  took  it,  and  it  became  John 
liidd's  delight. 

All  this,  or  at  least  great  part  of  it,  I  told  my  mother  truly, 
according  to  my  promise;  and  she  was  greatly  pleased  with 
Lorna  for  having  been  so  good  to  me,  and  for  S})eaking  so  very 
seusil>ly;  and  then  she  looked  at  the  great  gold  ring,  but 
could  by  no  means  interpret  it.  Only  she  was  quite  certain, 
as  indeed  I  myself  was,  that  it  must  have  belonged  to  an  an- 
cient race  of  great  consideration,  and  high  rank,  in  their  time. 
Upon  wliich  I  was  for  taking  it  off,  lest  it  should  be  degraded 
by  a  common  farmer's  linger.  But  mother  said  "No,"  with 
VOL.  I.  — 10 


242  LOBNA  BOONE. 

tears  in  her  eyes ;  "  if  tlie  common  farmer  had  won  the  great 
lady  of  the  ancient  race,  what  were  rings,  and  old-world 
trinkets,  when  compared  to  the  living  jewel?"  Being  quite  of 
her  opinion  in  this,  and  loving  the  ring  (which  had  no  gem  in 
it)  as  the  token  of  my  priceless  gem,  I  resolved  to  wear  it  at 
any  cost,  except  when  I  should  be  ploughing,  or  doing  things 
likely  to  break  it ;  although  I  must  own  that  it  felt  very  queer 
(for  I  never  had  throttled  a  finger  before),  and  it  looked  very 
queer,  for  a  length  of  time,  upon  my  great  hard-working  hand. 
And  before  I  got  used  to  my  ring,  or  people  could  think  that 
it  belonged  to  me  (plain  and  ungarnished  though  it  was),  and 
before  I  went  to  see  Lorna  again,  having  failed  to  find  any 
necessity,  and  remembering  my  duty  to  mother,  we  all  had 
something  else  to  think  of,  not  so  pleasant,  and  even  more 
puzzling. 


CHAPTEK  XXXVI. 

JOHN    RETURNS    TO    BUSINESS. 

Now  November  was  upon  us,  and  we  had  kept  Allhallow- 
mass,  with  roasting  of  skewered  apples  (like  so  many  shut- 
tlecocks), and  after  that,  the  day  of  Fawkes,  as  became  good 
Protestants,  with  merry  bonfires  and  burned  batatas,  and 
plenty  of  good  feeding  in  honor  of  our  religion;  and  then 
while  we  were  at  wheat-sowing,  another  visitor  arrived. 

This  was  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  who  had  been  a  good 
friend  to  me  (as  described  before)  in  London,  and  had  earned 
my  mother's  gratitude,  so  far  as  ever  he  chose  to  have  it. 
And  he  seemed  inclined  to  have  it  all;  for  he  made  our  farm- 
house his  head-quarters,  and  kept  us  quite  at  his  beck  and  call, 
going  out  at  any  time  of  the  evening,  and  coming  back  at  any 
time  of  the  morning,  and  always  expecting  us  to  be  ready, 
whether  with  horse,  or  man,  or  maidens,  or  fire,  or  provi- 
sions. We  knew  that  he  was  employed  somehow  upon  the 
service  of  the  King,  and  had  at  different  stations  certain 
troopers  and  orderlies,  quite  at  his  disposal;  also  we  knew 
that  he  never  went  out,  nor  even  slept  in  his  bedroom,  with- 
out heavy  fire-arms  well  loaded,  and  a  sharp  sword  nigh  his 
hand;  and  that  he  held  a  great  commission,  under  royal 
signet,  requiring  all  good  subjects,  all  officers  of  whatever 
degree,  and  especially  justices  of  the  peace,  to  aid  him  to  the 


JOHN  RETURNS   TO  BUSINESS.  243 

utmost,  with  person,  beast,  and  chattel,  or  to  answer  it  at 
their  periL 

Xow  jNlaster  Jeremy  Stickles,  by  this  time  knowing  well 
what  women  are,  dnrst  not  open  to  any  of  them  the  nature  of 
his  instructions.  But,  after  awhile,  perceiving  that  I  could 
be  relied  upon,  and  that  it  was  a  great  discomfort  not. to  have 
me  with  him,  he  took  me  aside  in  a  lonely  place,  and  told  me 
nearly  every  thing;  having  bound  me  hrst  by  oath,  not  to 
impart  to  any  one,  without  his  own  permission,  until  all  was 
over. 

But  at  the  present  time  of  writing,  all  is  over  long  ago ;  ay 
and  forgotten  too,  I  ween,  except  by  those  who  suffered. 
Therefore  may  I  tell  the  whole  without  any  breach  of  confi- 
dence. Master  Stickles  was  going  forth  upon  his  usual  night 
journey,  when  he  met  me  coming  home,  and  I  said  something 
half  in  jest,  about  his  zeal  and  secrecy ;  upon  which  he  looked 
all  around  the  yard,  and  led  me  to  an  open  space  in  the  clover 
field  adjoining. 

"  John,"  he  said,  "you  have  some  right  to  know  the  meaning 
of  all  this,  being  trusted  as  you  were  by  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice. But  he  found  you  scarcely  supple  enough,  neither  gifted 
with  due  brains." 

"Thank  God  for  that  same,"  I  answered,  while  he  tapped 
his  head,  to  signify  his  own  much  larger  allowance.  Then  he 
made  me  bind  myself,  which  in  an  evil  hour  I  did,  to  retain 
his  secret;  and  after  that  he  went  on  solemnly,  and  with 
much  importance,  — 

"  There  be  some  people  fit  to  plot,  and  others  to  be  plotted 
against,  and  others  to  unravel  plots,  which  is  the  highest  gift 
of  all.  Tliis  last  hath  fallen  to  my  share,  and  a  very  thank- 
less gift  it  is,  although  a  rare  and  choice  one.  Much  of  peril 
too  attends  it;  daring  ceurage  and  great  coolness  are  as  need- 
ful for  the  work  as  ready  wit  and  spotless  honor.  Therefore 
His  Majesty's  advisers  have  chosen  me  for  tliis  high  task,  and 
they  could  not  have  chosen  a  better  man.  Although  you  have 
been  in  London,  Jack,  much  longer  than  you  wished  it,  you 
are  wholly  ignorant,  of  course,  in  matters  of  state,  and  the 
I)ublic  weal." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "no  doubt  but  I  am;  and  all  the  better  for 
me.  Although  I  heard  a  deal  of  them;  for  every  body  was 
talking,  and  ready  to  come  to  blows;  if  only  it  could  be  done 
without  danger.  But  one  said  tliis,  and  one  said  that;  and 
they  talked  so  much  about  liirmiiigliams,  and  Tantivies,  and 
Whigs,  and  Tories,  and  J'rotestant  flails,  and  such  like,  that 


244  LORN  A   BOONE. 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  have  my  glass,  and  clink  my  spoon  for 
answer." 

"Right,  John,  thou  art  right  as  usual.  Let  the  King  go 
his  own  gait.  He  hath  too  many  mistresses  to  be  ever  Eng- 
land's master.  Nobody  need  fear  him,  for  he  is  not  like  his 
father :  he  will  have  his  own  way,  'tis  true,  but  without  stop- 
ping other  folk  of  theirs :  and  well  he  knows  what  women  are, 
for  he  never  asks  them  questions.  Now,  heard  you  much  in 
London  town  about  the  Duke  of  Monmouth?" 

"Not  so  very  much,"  I  answered;  "not  half  so  much  as  in 
Devonshire :  only  that  he  was  a  hearty  man,  and  a  very  hand- 
some one,  and  now  was  banished  by  the  Tories;  and  most 
people  wished  he  was  coming  back,  instead  of  the  Duke  of 
York,  who  was  trying  boots  in  Scotland." 

"  Things  are  changed  since  you.  were  in  town.  The  Whigs 
are  getting  up  again,  through  the  folly  of  the  Tories  in  kill- 
ing poor  Lord  Eussell;  and  now  this  Master  Sidney  (if  my 
Lord  condemns  him)  will  make  it  worse  again.  There  is 
much  disaffection  every  where,  and  it  must  grow  to  an  out- 
break. The  King  hath  many  troops  in  London,  and  meaneth 
to  bring  more  from  Tangier;  but  he  cannot  command  these 
country  places ;  and  the  trained  bands  cannot  help  him  much, 
even  if  they  would.     Now,  do  you  understand  me,  John?" 

"  In  truth,  not  I.  I  see  not  what  Tangier  hath  to  do  with 
Exmoor;  nor  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  with  Jeremy  Stickles." 

"  Thou  great  clod,  put  it  the  other  way.  Jeremy  Stickles 
may  have  much  to  do  about  the  Duke  of  Monmouth.  The 
Whigs  having  failed  of  Exclusion,  and  having  been  punished 
bitterly  for  the  blood  they  shed,  are  ripe  for  any  violence. 
And  the  tiirn  of  the  balance  is  now  to  them.  See-saw  is  the 
fashion  of  England  always;  and  the  Whigs  will  soon  be  the 
top-sawyers." 

"But,"  said  I,  still  more  confused,  "'The  King  is  the  top- 
sawyer,  '  according  to  our  proverb.  How  then  can  the  Whigs 
be?" 

"  Thou  art  a  hopeless  ass,  John.  Better  to  sew  with  a  chest- 
nut, than  to  teach  thee  the  constitution.  Let  it  be  so;  let 
it  be.  I  have  seen  a  boy  of  five  years  old  more  apt  at  poli- 
tics than  thou.  Nay,  look  not  offended,  lad.  It  is  my  fault 
for  being  over-deep  to  thee.  I  should  have  considered  thy 
intellect." 

"Nay,  Master  Jeremy,  make  no  apologies.  It  is  I  that 
should  excuse  myself;   but,  God  knows,  I  have  no  politics." 

"Stick  to  that,  my  lad,"  he  answered;  "so  shalt  thou  die 


JOHX  EETUBNS   TO  BUSINESS.  245 

easier.  Xow,  in  ten  words  (without  parties,  or  trying  thy 
poor  brain  too  much),  I  am  here  to  watcli  the  gathering  of  a 
secret  plot,  not  so  much  against  the  King  as  against  the  due 
succession." 

"Now  I  understand  at  last.  But,  Master  Stickles,  you 
might  have  said  all  that  an  hour  ago  almost." 

"It  would  have  been  better,  if  I  had,  to  thee,"  he  replied, 
with  much  compassion;  "thy  hat  is  nearly  off  thy  head,  with 
the  swelling  of  brain  I  have  given  thee.  Blows,  blows,  are 
thy  business,  Jack.  There  thou  art  in  thine  element.  And, 
haply,  this  business  will  bring  thee  plenty,  even  for  thy  great 
head  to  take.  ^Now  hearken  to  one  who  wishes  thee  well,  and 
plainly  sees  the  end  of  it,  —  stick  thou  to  the  winning  side, 
and  have  naught  to  do  with  the  other  one." 

"That,"  said  I,  in  great  haste  and  hurry,  "is  the  very  thing 
I  want  to  do,  if  I  only  knew  which  was  the  winning  side,  for 
the  sake  of  Lorna  —  that  is  to  say,  for  the  sake  of  my  dear 
mother  and  sisters,  and  the  farm." 

"Ha!"  cried  Jeremy  Stickles,  laughing  at  the  redness  of 
my  face  —  "Lorna,  saidst  thou;  now  what  Lorna?  Is  it  the 
name  of  a  maiden,  or  a  light-o'-love?  " 

"Keep  to  your  own  business,"  I  answered,  very  proudly; 
"spy  as  much  as  e'er  thou  wilt,  and  use  our  house  for  doing 
it,  without  asking  leave  or  telling;  but  if  I  ever  find  thee  spy- 
ing into  my  affairs,  all  the  King's  lifeguards  in  London,  and 
the  dragoons  thou  bringest  hither,  shall  not  save  thee  from 
my  hand  —  or  one  finger  is  enough  for  thee." 

Being  carried  ])eyond  myself  by  his  insolence  about  Lorna, 
I  looked  at  Master  Stickles  so,  and  spake  in  such  a  voice,  that 
all  his  daring  courage  and  his  spotless  honor  quailed  within 
him,  and  he  shrank  —  as  if  I  would  strike  so  small  a  man. 

Tlien  I  left  him,  and  went  to  work  at  the  sacks  upon  the 
corn-floor,  to  take  my  evil  spirit  from  me,  before  I  should  see 
mother.  For  (to  tell  the  truth)  now  my  strength  was  full, 
and  troubles  were  gathering  round  me,  and  people  took 
advantage  so  much  of  my  easy  temper,  sometimes,  when  I 
was  over-tried,  a  sudden  heat  ran  over  me,  and  a  glowing  of 
all  my  muscles,  and  a  tingling  for  a  miglity  throw,  such  as 
my  utmost  self-command,  and  fear  of  hurting  any  one,  could 
but  ill  refrain.  Afterwards,  I  was  always  very  sadly  ashamed 
of  myself,  knowing  how  poor  a  thing  bodily  strength  is,  as 
compared  with  power  of  mind,  and  that  it  is  a  coward's  part 
to  misuse  it  upon  weaker  folk.  For  the  present  there  was 
a  little  breach  between  Master  Stickles  and  me,  for  which  I 


246  LOBNA   DOONE. 

blamed  myself  very  sorely.  But  though,  in  full  memory  of 
his  kindness  and  faithfulness  in  London,  I  asked  his  pardon 
many  times  for  my  foolish  anger  with  him,  and  offered  to 
undergo  any  penalty  he  would  lay  upon  me,  he  only  said  it 
was  no  matter,  there  was  nothing  to  forgive.  When  people 
say  that,  the  truth  often  is,  that  they  can  forgive  nothing. 

So  for  the  present,  a  breach  was  made  between  Master  Jer- 
emy and  myself,  which  to  me  seemed  no  great  loss ;  inasmuch 
as  it  relieved  me  from  any  privity  to  his  dealings,  for  which 
I  had  small  liking.  All  I  feared  was,  lest  1  might,  in  any 
way,  be  ungrateful  to  him;  but  when  he  would  have  no  more 
of  me,  what  could  I  do  to  help  it?  However,  in  a  few  days' 
time  I  Avas  of  good  service  to  him,  as  you  shall  see  in  its 
proper  place. 

But  now  my  own  affairs  were  thrown  into  such  disorder, 
that  I  could  think  of  nothing  else,  and  had  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  hiding  my  uneasiness.  For  suddenly,  without  any 
warning,  or  a  word  of  message,  all  my  Lorna's  signals  ceased, 
which  I  had  been  wont  to  watch  for  daily,  and  as  it  were  to 
feed  upon  them,  with  a  glowing  heart.  The  first  time  I  stood 
on  the  wooded  crest,  and  found  no  change  from  yesterday,  I 
could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  or  thought  at  least  that  it  must 
be  some  great  mistake  on  the  part  of  my  love.  However, 
even  that  oppressed  me  with  a  heavy  heart,  which  grew 
heavier,  as  I  found  from  day  to  day  no  token. 

Three  times  I  went,  and  waited  long  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  where  now  the  stream  was  brown  and  angry  with  the 
rains  of  autumn,  and  the  weeping  trees  hung  leafless.  But 
though  I  waited  at  every  hour  of  day  and  far  into  the  night, 
no  light  footstep  came  to  meet  me,  no  sweet  voice  was  in  the 
air;  all  was  lonely,  drear,  and  drenched  with  sodden  desola- 
tion. It  seemed  as  if  my  love  was  dead,  and  the  winds  were 
at  her  funeral. 

Once  I  sought  far  up  the  valley,  where  I  had  never  been  be- 
fore, even  beyond  the  copse,  where  Lorna  had  found  and  lost 
her  brave  young  cousin.  Following  up  the  river  channel,  in 
the  shelter  of  the  evening  fog,  I  gained  a  corner  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  last  out-lying  cot.  This  was  a  glooomy, 
low,  square  house,  without  any  light  in  the  windows,  roughly 
built  of  wood  and  stone,  as  I  saw  when  I  drew  nearer.  For 
knowing  it  to  be  Carver's  dwelling  (or  at  least  suspecting  so, 
from  some  words  of  Lorna's),  I  Avas  led  by  curiosity,  and 
perhaps  by  jealousy,  to  have  a  closer  look  at  it.  Therefore, 
I  crept  up  the  stream,  losing  half  my  sense  of  fear,  by  reason 


JOHN   RETURNS    TO  BUSINESS.  247 

of  anxiety.  And  in  truth  there  was  not  much  to  fear,  the  sky 
being  now  too  dark  for  even  a  shooter  of  wild  fowl  to  make 
good  aim.  And  nothing  else  but  gims  could  Imrt  me;  as  in 
the  pride  of  my  strength  I  thought,  and  in  my  skill  of  single- 
stick. 

Nevertheless,  I  went  warily,  being  now  almost  among  this 
nest  of  cockatrices.  The  back  of  Carver's  house  abutted  on 
the  waves  of  the  rushing  stream;  and  seeing  a  loop-hole, 
vacant  for  muskets,  I  looked  in,  but  all  was  quiet.  So  far  as 
I  could  judge  by  listening,  there  was  no  one  now  inside,  and 
my  heart  for  a  moment  leaped  with  joy,  for  I  had  feared  to 
find  Lorna  there.  Then  I  took  a  careful  survey  of  the  dwell- 
ing, and  its  windows,  and  its  door,  and  aspect,  as  if  I  had  been 
a  robber  meaning  to  make  privy  entrance.  It  was  well  for  me 
that  I  did  this,  as  you  will  find  hereafter. 

Having  impressed  upon  my  mind  (a  slow  but,  perhaps, 
retentive  mind)  all  the  bearings  of  the  place,  and  all  its  oppor- 
tunities, and  even  the  curve  of  the  stream  along  it,  and  the 
bushes  near  the  door,  I  was  much  inclined  to  go  further  up, 
and  understand  all  the  village.  But  a  bar  of  red  light  across 
the  river,  some  forty  yards  on  above  me,  and  crossing  from 
the  opposite  side  like  a  chain,  prevented  me.  In  that  second 
house  there  was  a  gathering  of  loud  and  merry  outlaws,  mak- 
ing as  much  noise  as  if  they  had  the  law  upon  their  side. 
Some  indeed,  as  I  approached,  were  laying  down  both  right 
and  wrong,  as  purely,  and  with  as  high  a  sense,  as  if  they 
knew  the  difference.  Cold  and  troubled  as  I  was,  I  could 
hardly  keep   from  laughing. 

Before  I  betook  myself  home  that  night,  and  eased  dear 
mother's  heart  so  much,  and  made  her  sad  face  spread  with 
smiles,  I  had  resolved  to  penetrate  Glen  Doone  from  the  upper 
end,  and  learn  all  about  my  Lorna.  ^N'ot  but  what  I  might 
have  entered  from  my  unsuspected  channel,  as  so  often  I  had 
done;  but  that  I  saw  fearful  need  for  knowing  something  more 
than  that.  Here  was  every  sort  of  trouble  gathering  upon 
me;  here  was  Jeremy  Stickles  stealing  upon  every  one  in  the 
dark;  here  was  Uncle  lleuben  plotting,  Satan  only  could  tell 
wliat;  here  was  a  white  night-capped  man  coming  Ijodily  from 
the  grave;  here  was  my  own  sister  Annie  committed  to  a 
higliway-man,  and  mother  in  distraction;  most  of  all,  — here, 
there,  and  where,  — was  my  Lorna,  stolen,  dungeoned,  per- 
liaps  outraged.  It  was  no  time  for  shilly  shally,  for  the  bal- 
ance of  this  and  that,  or  for  a  man,  with  blood  and  muscle, 
to  jtat  his  nose  and  ponder.     If  I  left  my  Lorna  so;  if  I  let 


248  LOBNA   DOONE. 

those  black-soul'd  villains  work  tlieir  pleasure  on  my  love;  if 
the  heart  that  clave  to  mine  could  find  no  vigor  in  it  —  then 
let  maidens  cease  from  men,  and  rest  their  faith  in  tabby -cats. 
Ru.dely  rolling  these  ideas  in  my  heavy  head  and  brain,  I 
resolved  to  let  the  morrow  put  them  into  form  and  order,  but 
not  contradict  them.  And  then,  as  my  constitution  willed 
(being  like  that  of  England),  I  slept;  and  there  was  no  stop- 
ping me. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A    VERY    DESPERATE    VENTURE. 

That  the  enterprise  now  resolved  upon  was  far  more  dan- 
gerous than  any  hitherto  attempted  by  me,  needs  no  further 
proof  than  this :  —  I  went  and  made  my  will  at  Porlock,  with 
a  middling  honest  lawyer  there ;  not  that  I  had  much  to  leave, 
but  that  none  could  say  how  far  the  farm,  and  all  the  farm- 
ing stock,  might  depend  on  my  disposition.  It  makes  me 
smile  when  I  remember  how  particular  I  was,  and  how  for 
the  life  of  me  I  was  puzzled  to  bequeath  most  part  of  my 
clothes,  and  hats,  and  things  altogether  my  own,  to  Lorna, 
without  the  shrewd  old  lawyer  knowing  who  she  was,  and 
where  she  lived.  At  last,  indeed,  I  flattered  myself  that  I 
had  baffled  old  Tape's  curiosity;  but  his  wrinkled  smile,  and 
his  speech  at  parting,  made  me  again  uneasy. 

"  A  very  excellent  will,  young  sir.  An  admirably  just  and 
virtuous  will ;  all  your  effects  to  your  nearest  of  kin ;  filial  and 
fraternal  duty  thoroughly  exemplified;  nothing  diverted  to 
alien  channels,  except  a  small  token  of  esteem  and  reverence 
to  an  elderly  lady,  I  presume :  and  which  may  or  may  not  be 
valid,  or  invalid,  on  the  ground  of  uncertainty,  or  the  ab- 
sence of  any  legal  status  on  the  part  of  the  legatee.  Ha,  ha! 
Yes,  yes!  Eew  young  men  are  so  free  from  u.ndesirable 
entanglements.  Two  guineas  is  my  charge,  sir :  and  a  rare 
good  will  for  the  money.  Very  prudent  of  you,  sir.  Does 
you  credit  in  every  way.  Well,  well:  we  all  must  die;  and 
often  the  young,  before  the  old." 

Not  only  did  I  think  two  guineas  a  great  deal  too  much 
money  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  employment,  but  also  I  dis- 
liked particularly  the  words  with  which  he  concluded;  they 
sounded,  from  his  grating  voice,  like  the  evil  omen  of  a  croak- 


A    VERY  BESPEEATE   VENTUBE.  249 

ing  raven.  Nevertheless  I  still  abode  in  my  fixed  resolve  to 
go,  and  find  out,  if  I  died  for  it,  what  was  become  of  Lorna. 
And  herein  I  lay  no  claim  to  courage;  the  matter  being  simply 
a  choice  between  two  evils,  of  Avhicli  by  far  the  greater  one 
was,  of  course,  to  lose  my  darling. 

The  jovirney  was  a  great  deal  longer  to  fetch  around  the 
Southern  hills,  and  enter  by  the  Doone-gate,  than  to  cross  the 
lower  land,  and  steal  in  by  the  water-slide.  However,  I  durst 
not  take  a  horse  (for  fear  of  the  Doones,  who  might  be  abroad 
upon  their  usual  business),  but  started  betimes  in  the  even- 
ing, so  as  not  to  hurry,  or  waste  any  strength  upon  the  way. 
And  thus  I  came  to  the  robbers'  highway,  walking  circum- 
spectly, scanning  the  sky-line  of  every  hill,  and  searching  the 
folds  of  every  valley,  for  any  moving  figure. 

Although  it  was  now  well  on  towards  dark,  and  the  sun  was 
down  an  hour  or  so,  I  could  see  the  robbers'  road  before  me, 
in  a  trough  of  the  winding  hills,  where  the  brook  ploughed 
down  from  the  higher  barrows,  and  the  coving  banks  were 
roofed  with  furze.  At  present,  there  was  no  one  passing, 
neither  post  nor  sentinel,  so  far  as  I  could  descry;  but  I 
thought  it  safer  to  wait  a  little,  as  twilight  melted  into  night; 
and  tlien  I  crept  down  a  seam  of  the  highland,  and  stood  upon 
the  Doone-track. 

As  the  road  approached  the  entrance,  it  became  more 
straight  and  strong,  like  a  channel  cut  from  rock,  with  the 
water  brawling  darkly  along  the  naked  side  of  it.  Not  a  tree 
or  bush  was  left,  to  shelter  a  man  from  bullets :  all  was  stern, 
and  stiff,  and  rugged,  as  I  could  not  help  perceiving,  even 
through  the  darkness ;  and  a  smell  as  of  churchyard  mould,  a 
sense  of  being  boxed  in  and  cooped,  made  me  long  to  be  out 
again. 

And  liere  I  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  particularly  unlucky;  for 
as  I  drew  near  the  very  entrance,  lightly  of  foot,  and  warily, 
the  moon  (which  had  often  been  my  friend)  like  an  enemy 
broke  upon  me,  toj)ping  the  eastward  ridge  of  rock,  and  fill- 
ing all  the  open  spaces  with  the  play  of  wavering  liglit.  I 
slirank  back  into  the  shadowy  quarter,  on  the  right  side  of  the 
road;  and  gloomily  em])loyed  myself  to  watch  tlie  triple  en- 
trance, on  which  the  moonlight  fell  askew. 

All  across  and  before  the  three  rude  and  beetling  archways, 
hung  a  felled  oak  overhead,  black,  and  thick,  and  threatening. 
This,  as  I  lieard  before,  could  be  let  fall  in  a  moment,  so  as  to 
crusli  a  score  of  men,  and  bar  the  a])])roacli  of  horses.  Behind 
this  tree,  the  rocky  inoutli  was  spanned,  as  by  a  gallery,  with 


250  LORNA   BOONE. 

brtisliwood  and  piled  timber,  all  upon  a  ledge  of  stone,  where 
thirty  men  might  lurk  unseen,  and  fire  at  any  invader.  From 
that  rampart  it  would  be  impossible  to  dislodge  them,  because 
the  rock  fell  sheer  below  them  twenty  feet,  or  it  may  be  more ; 
while  overhead  it  towered  three  hundred,  and  so  jutted  over 
tliat  nothing  could  be  cast  upon  them ;  even  if  a  man  could 
climb  the  height.  And  the  access  to  this  portcullis  place  — 
if  I  may  so  call  it,  being  no  portcullis  there  —  was  through 
certain  rocky  chamljers  known  to  the  tenants  only. 

But  the  cleverest  of  their  devices,  and  the  most  puzzling  to 
an  enemy,  was  that,  instead  of  one  moiith  only,  there  were 
three  to  choose  from,  Avith  nothing  to  betoken  which  was  the 
proper  access;  all  being  pretty  much  alike,  and  all  unfenced 
and  yawning.  And  the  common  rumor  was  that  in  times  of 
any  danger,  when  any  force  was  known  to  be  on  muster  in 
their  neighborhood,  they  changed  their  entrance  every  day, 
and  diverted  the  other  two,  by  means  of  sliding  doors  to  the 
chasms  and  dark  abysses. 

Now  I  could  see  those  three  rough  arches,  jagged,  black,  and 
terrible;  and  I  knew  that  only  one  of  them  could  lead  me  to 
the  valley;  neither  gave  the  river  now  any  further  guidance; 
but  dived  underground  with  a  sullen  roar,  where  it  met  the 
cross-bar  of  the  mountain.  Having  no  means  at  all  of  judg- 
ing which  was  the  right  way  of  the  three,  and  knowing  that 
the  other  two  would  lead  to  almost  certain  death,  in  the  rug- 
gedness  and  darkness,  —  for  how  could  a  man,  among  preci- 
pices and  bottomless  depths  of  water,  without  a  ray  of  light, 
have  any  chance  to  save  his  life?  —  I  do  declare  that  I  was 
half  inclined  to  go  away,  and  have  done  with  it. 

However,  I  knew  one  thing  for  certain,  to  wit,  that  the 
longer  I  stayed  debating,  the  more  would  the  enterprise  pall 
upon  me,  and  the  less  my  relish  be.  And  it  struck  me  that, 
in  times  of  peace,  the  middle  way  was  the  likeliest;  and  the 
others  diverging  right  and  left  in  their  further  parts  might  be 
made  to  slide  into  it  (not  far  from  the  entrance),  at  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  warders.  Also  I  took  it  for  good  omen  that  I 
remembered  (as  rarely  happened)  a  very  fine  line  in  the  Latin 
grammar,  whose  emphasis  and  meaning  is  "middle  road  is 
safest." 

Therefore,  without  more  hesitation,  I  plunged  into  the 
middle  way,  holding  a  long  ash  staff  before  me,  shodden  at 
the  end  with  iron.  Presently  I  was  in  black  darkness,  grop- 
ing along  the  wall,  and  feeling  a  deal  more  fear  than  I  wished 
to  feel;  especially  when  upon  looking  back  I  could  no  longer 


A    VERY  DESPERATE   VENTURE.  251 

see  the  light,  which  I  liad  forsakeu.  Then  I  stumbled  over 
something  hard,  and  sharp,  and  very  cold,  moreover  so  griev- 
ous to  my  legs,  that  it  needed  my  very  best  doctrine  and  humor 
to  forbear  from  swearing,  in  the  manner  they  use  in  London. 
But  when  I  arose,  and  felt  it,  and  knew  it  to  be  a  culverin, 
I  was  somewhat  reassured  thereby,  inasmuch  as  it  was  not 
likely  that  they  would  plant  this  engine,  except  in  the  real 
and  true  entrance. 

Therefore  I  went  on  again,  more  painfully  and  wearily,  and 
presently  found  it  to  be  good  that  I  had  received  that  knock, 
and  borne  it  with  such  patience;  for  otherwise  I  might  have 
blundered  full  upon  tlie  sentries,  and  been  shot  without  more 
ado.  As  it  was,  I  had  barely  time  to  draw  back,  as  I  turned 
a  corner  upon  them;  and  if  their  lanthorn  had  been  in  its 
place,  they  could  scarce  have  failed  to  descry  me,  unless 
indeed  I  had  seen  the  gleam  before  I  turned  the  corner. 

There  seemed  to  be  only  two  of  them,  of  size  indeed  and 
stature  as  all  the  Doones  must  be,  but  I  need  not  have  feared 
to  encounter  them  both,  had  they  been  unarmed,  as  I  was. 
It  was  plain,  however,  that  each  had  a  long  and  heavy  carbine, 
not  in  liis  hands  (as  it  should  have  been),  but  standing  close 
beside  him.  Therefore  it  behoved  me  now  to  be  exceeding 
careful;  and  even  that  might  scarce  avail,  without  luck  in 
proportion.  So  I  kept  well  back  at  the  corner,  and  laid  one 
cheek  to  the  rock  face,  and  kept  my  outer  eye  round  the  jut, 
in  the  wariest  mode  I  could  compass,  watching  my  opportu- 
nity: and  this  is  what  I  saw. 

The  two  villains  looked  very  happy  —  which  villains  have 
no  right  to  be,  but  often  are,  meseemeth  —  they  were  sitting 
in  a  niche  of  rock,  with  the  lanthorn  in  the  corner,  quailing 
something  from  glass  measures,  and  playing  at  push-pin,  or 
shepherd's  chess,  or  basset;  or  some  trivial  game  of  that  sort. 
Each  was  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe,  quite  of  new  London  shape 
I  could  see,  for  the  sliadow  was  thrown  out  clearly ;  and  each 
would  laugh  from  time  to  time,  as  he  fancied  he  got  the  better 
of  it.  One  was  sitting  with  Ids  knees  up,  and  left  hand  on 
his  thigh ;  and  this  one  had  his  back  to  me,  and  seemed  to  be 
the  stouter.  The  otlicr  leaned  more  against  the  rock,  half 
sitting  and  half  astraddle,  and  wearing  leathern  overalls,  as 
if  newly  come  from  riding.  I  could  see  his  face  quite  clearly 
Ijy  the  li<rlit  of  the  open  lanthorn,  and  a  handsomer  or  a  bolder 
face  I  liad  seldom,  if  ever,  set  eyes  upon;  insomuch  that  it 
made  me  very  unliap])y  to  think  of  liis  being  so  near  my  Lorna. 

"IIow  long  am  I  to  stay  crouching  here?"  I  asked  of  my- 


252  LORNA  DOONE. 

self  at  last,  being  tired  of  hearing  them  cry,  "score  one," 

"score   two,"  "No,  by ,  Charlie,"  "By 1  say  it   is, 

Phelps."  And  yet  my  only  chance  of  slipping  by  them  un- 
perceived  was  to  wait  till  they  quarrelled  more,  and  came  to 
blows  about  it.  Presently,  as  I  made  up  my  mind  to  steal 
along  towards  them  (for  the  cavern  was  pretty  wide,  just 
there),  Charlie,  or  Charleworth  Doone,  the  younger  and  taller 
man,  reached  forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  money,  which  he 
swore  he  had  won  that  time.  Upon  this,  the  other  jerked  his 
arm,  vowing  that  he  had  no  right  to  it;  whereupon  Charlie 
flung  at  his  face  the  contents  of  the  glass  he  was  sipping,  but 
missed  him  and  hit  the  candle,  which  spluttered  with  a  flare 
of  blue  flame  (from  the  strength  perhaps  of  the  spirit)  and 
then  went  out  completely.  At  this,  one  swore,  and  the  other 
laughed ;  and  before  they  had  settled  what  to  do,  I  was  past 
them  and  round  the  corner. 

And  then,  like  a  giddy  fool  as  I  was,  I  needs  must  give 
them  a  startler  —  the  whoop  of  an  owl,  done  so  exactly,  as 
John  Fry  had  taught  me,  and  echoed  by  the  roof  so  fearfully, 
that  one  of  them  dropped  the  tinder  box,  and  the  other  cavight 
up  his  gun  and  cocked  it,  at  least  as  I  judged  by  the  sounds 
they  made.  And  then,  too  late,  I  knew  my  madness,  for  if 
either  of  them  had  fired,  no  doubt  but  what  all  the  village 
would  have  risen,  and  rushed  upon  me.  However,  as  the  luck 
of  the  matter  went,  it  proved  for  my  advantage ;  for  I  heard 
one  say  to  the  otlier,  — 

"Curse  it,  Charlie,  what  was  that?  It  scared  me  so,  I  have 
dropped  my  box ;  my  flint  is  gone,  and  every  thing.  Will  the 
brimstone  catch  from  your  pipe,  my  lad?" 

"  My  pipe  is  out,  Phelps,  ever  so  long.  Damn  it,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  an  owl,  man.  Give  me  the  lanthorn,  and  stay  here. 
I'm  not  half  done  with  you  yet,  my  friend." 

"Well  said,  my  boy,  well  said!  Go  straight  to  Carver's, 
mind  you.  The  other  sleepy-heads  be  snoring,  as  there  is 
nothing  up  to-night.  No  dallying  now  under  Captain's  win- 
dow. Queen  will  have  nought  to  say  to  yoii;  and  Carver  will 
punch  your  head  into  a  new  wick  for  your  lanthorn." 

"Will  he  though?  Two  can  play  at  that."  And  so  after 
some  rude  jests,  and  laughter,  and  a  few  more  oaths,  I  heard 
Charlie  (or  at  any  rate  somebody)  coming  toward  me,  with  a 
loose  and  not  too  sober  footfall.  As  he  reeled  a  little  in  his 
gait,  and  I  would  not  move  from  his  way  one  inch,  after  his 
talk  of  Lorna,  but  only  longed  to  grasp  him  (if  common  sense 
permitted  it),  his  braided  coat  came  against  my  thumb,  and 


A    VERY  DESPERATE   VENTURE.  253 

liis  leathern  gaiters  brushed  my  knee.  If  he  had  turned  or 
noticed  it,  he  woukl  have  been  a  dead  man  in  a  moment ;  but 
his  drunkenness  saved  him. 

So  I  let  him  reel  on  unharmed;  and  thereupon  it  occurred  to 
me  that  I  could  have  no  better  guide,  passing  as  he  would 
exactly  where  I  wished  to  be;  that  is  to  say  under  Lorna's 
window.  Therefore  I  followed  him,  without  any  especial 
caution;  and  soon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  form  against 
the  moonlit  sky.  Down  a  steep  and  winding  path,  with  a 
handrail  at  the  corners  (such  as  they  have  at  Ilfracombe), 
Master  Charlie  tripped  along  —  and  indeed  there  was  much 
tripping,  and  he  must  have  been  an  active  fellow  to  recover  as 
he  did  —  and  after  him  walked  I,  much  hoping  (for  his  own 
poor  sake)  that  he  might  not  turn,  and  espy  me. 

But  Bacchus  (of  whom  I  read  at  school,  with  great  wonder 
about  his  meaning  —  and  the  same  I  may  say  of  Venus)  that 
great  deity  preserved  Charlie,  his  pious  worshipper,  from 
regarding  consequences.  So  he  led  me  very  kindly  to  the  top 
of  the  meadow  land,  where  the  stream  from  underground 
broke  forth,  seething  quietly  with  a  little  hiss  of  bubbles. 
Hence  I  had  fair  view  and  outline  of  the  robbers'  township, 
spread  with  bushes  here  and  there,  but  not  heavily  overshad- 
owed. The  moon,  approaching  now  the  full,  brought  the 
forms  in  manner  forth,  clothing  each  with  character,  as  the 
moon  (more  than  the  sun)  does,  to  an  eye  accustomed. 

I  knew  that  the  Captain's  house  was  first,  both  from  what 
Lorna  had  said  of  it,  and  from  my  mother's  description,  and 
now  again  from  seeing  Charlie  halt  there  for  a  certain  time, 
and  wliistle  on  his  fingers,  and  hurry  on,  fearing  consequences. 
The  tune  that  he  whistled  was  strange  to  me,  and  lingered  in 
my  ears,  as  having  something  very  new  aUd  striking,  and  fan- 
tastic in  it.  And  I  repeated  it  softly  to  myself,  while  1  marked 
the  position  of  the  houses  and  the  beauty  of  the  village.  For 
the  stream,  in  lieu  of  any  street,  passing  between  the  houses, 
and  affording  perpetual  change,  and  twinkling,  and  reflections, 
moreover  by  its  sleepy  murmur  soothing  all  the  dwellers  there, 
this  and  the  snugness  of  the  position,  walled  with  rock  and 
spread  witli  licrbagc,  made  it  look,  in  the  quiet  moonlight, 
like  a  little  jjaradise.  And  to  tliiuk  of  all  the  inmates  there, 
sleeping  with  good  consciences,  having  plied  their  useful  trade 
of  making  others  work  for  them,  enjoying  life  without  much 
labor,  yet  witli  great  renown! 

Master  Charlie  went  down  the  village,  and  I  followed  him 
carefully,  keeping  as  mucli  as  possible  in  the  shadowy  places, 


254  LOBNA   DOONE. 

and  watcliing  the  windows  of  every  house,  lest  any  light  should 
be  burning.  As  I  passed  Sir  Ensor's  house,  my  heart  leaped 
up,  for  I  spied  a  window,  higher  than  the  rest  above  the 
ground,  and  with  a  faint  light  moving.  This  could  hardly 
fail  to  be  the  room  wherein  my  darling  lay;  for  here  that 
impudent  young  fellow  had  gazed  while  he  was  whistling. 
And  here  my  courage  grew  tenfold,  and  my  spirit  feared  no 
evil  —  for  lo,  if  Lorna  had  been  surrendered  to  that  scoundrel. 
Carver,  she  would  not  have  been  at  her  grandfather's  house, 
but  in  Carver's  accursed  dwelling. 

Warm  with  this  idea,  I  hurried  after  Charleworth  Doone, 
being  resolved  not  to  harm  him  now,  unless  my  own  life 
required  it.  And  while  I  watched  from  behind  a  tree,  the 
door  of  the  furthest  house  was  opened ;  and  sure  enough  it  was 
Carver's  self,  who  stood  bareheaded,  and  half  undressed,  in 
the  doorway.  I  could  see  his  great  black  chest,  and  arms,  by 
the  light  of  the  lamp  he  bore. 

"Who  wants  me,  this  time  of  night?  "  he  grumbled  in  a  deep 
gruff  voice;  "any  young  scamp  prowling  after  the  maids 
shall  have  sore  bones  for  his  trouble." 

"All  the  fair  maids  are  for  thee,  are  they.  Master  Carver?" 
Charlie  answered  laughing;  "we  young  scamps  must  be  well- 
content  with  coarser  stuff  than  thou  wouldst  have." 

"Would  have?  Ay,  and  will  have,"  the  great  beast  mut- 
tered angrily.  "  I  bide  my  time ;  but  not  very  long.  Only 
one  word  for  thy  good,  Charlie.  I  will  fling  thee  senseless 
into  the  river,  if  ever  I  catch  thy  girl-face  there  again." 

"  Mayhap,  Master  Carver,  it  is  more  than  thou  couldst  do. 
But  I  will  not  keep  thee ;  thou  art  not  pleasant  company  to- 
night. All  I  want  is  a  light  for  my  lanthorn,  and  a  glass  of 
schnapps,  if  thou  hast  it." 

"What  is  become  of  thy  light,  then?  Good  for  thee  I  am 
not  on  duty." 

"  A  great  owl  flew  between  me  and  Phelps,  as  we  watched 
beside  the  culverin,  and  so  scared  was  he  at  our  fierce  bright 
eyes,  that  he  fell,  and  knocked  the  light  out." 

"  Likely  tale,  or  likely  lie,  Charles !  We  will  have  the  truth 
to-morrow.  Here  take  thy  light,  and  be  gone  with  thee.  All 
virtuous  men  are  in  bed  now." 

"Then  so  will  I  be,  and  why  art  thou  not?  Ha,  have  I 
earned  my  schnapps  now?" 

"  If  thou  hast,  thou  hast  paid  a  bad  debt :  there  is  too  much 
in  thee  already.     Be  off!  my  patience  is  done  with." 

Then  he  slammed  the  door  in  the  young  man's  face,  having 


A    VZRT  DESPEliATE   VENTURE.  255 

kindled  his  lantliorn  by  this  time :  and  Charlie  went  up  to  the 
watch-place  again,  muttering  as  he  passed  me,  "  Bad  look-out 
for  all  of  us,  when  that  surly  old  beast  is  Captain.  No  gentle 
blood  in  him,  no  hospitality,  not  even  pleasant  language,  nor 
a  good  new  oath  in  his  frowsy  pate !  I've  a  mind  to  cut  the 
whole  of  it;  and  but  for  the  girls  I  would  so." 

My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  as  they  say,  when  I  stood  in 
the  shade  by  Lorna's  window,  and  whispered  her  name  gently. 
The  house  was  of  one  story  only,  as  the  others  were,  with 
pine-ends  standing  forth  the  stone,  and  only  two  rough  win- 
dows upon  that  western  side  of  it,  and  perhaps  both  of  them 
were  Lorna's.  The  Doones  had  been  their  own  builders,  for 
no  one  should  know  their  ins  and  outs;  and  of  course  their 
work  was  clumsy.  As  for  their  windows,  they  stole  them 
mostly  from  the  houses  round  about.  l>ut  though  the  window 
was  not  very  close,  I  might  have  whispered  long  enough, 
before  she  would  have  answered  me;  frightened  as  she  was, 
no  doubt,  by  many  a  rude  overture.  And  I  durst  not  speak 
aloud,  because  I  saw  another  watchman  posted  on  the  western 
cliff,  and  commanding  all  the  valley.  And  now  this  man 
(having  no  companion  for  drinking  or  for  gambling)  espied  me 
against  the  wall  of  the  house,  and  advanced  to  the  brink,  and 
challenged  me. 

"Who  are  you  there?  Answer!  One,  two,  three;  and  I  fire 
at  thee." 

The  nozzle  of  his  gun  was  pointed  full  upon  me,  as  I  could 
see,  with  the  moonlight  striking  on  the  barrel;  he  was  not 
more  than  fifty  yards  off,  and  now  he  began  to  reckon.  Being 
almost  desperate  about  it,  I  began  to  whistle,  wondering  how 
far  I  should  get  before  I  lost  my  windpipe :  and  as  luck  would 
have  it,  my  lips  fell  into  that  strange  tune  I  had  ])ractised 
last;  the  one  I  had  heard  from  Charlie.  My  moutli  would 
scarcely  frame  the  notes,  being  parched  with  terror;  biit  to 
my  surprise,  the  man  fell  back,  dropped  his  gun,  and  saluted. 
Oh  sweetest  of  all  sweet  melodies ! 

That  tune  was  Carver  Doone's  passport  (as  I  heard  long 
afterwards),  which  Charleworth  Doone  had  imitated,  for  decoy 
of  Lorna.  The  sentinel  took  me  for  that  vile  Carver;  who 
was  like  enough  to  be  prowling  there,  for  private  talk  with 
Lorna;  but  not  very  likely  to  shout  forth  his  name,  if  it  might 
be  avoid<'d.  The  Avatchman,  perceiving  the  danger  jn-rhaps 
of  intruding  on  Carver's  privacy,  not  only  retired  along  the 
cliff,  but  withdrew  himself  to  good  distance. 

Meanwhile  he  had  done  me  the  kindest  service;  for  Lorna 


256  LORNA   DOONE. 

came  to  the  window  at  once,  to  see  what  the  cause  of  the 
shout  was,  and  drew  back  the  curtain  timidly.  Tiien  she 
opened  the  rough  hxttice;  and  then  she  watclied  the  clifl:  and 
trees;  and  then  she  siglied  very  sadly. 

"  Oh  Lorna,  don't  you  know  me?  "  I  whispered  from  the  side, 
being  afraid  of  startling  her  by  appearing  over  suddenly. 

Quick  though  she  always  was  of  thought,  she  knew  me  not 
from  my  whisper,  and  was  shutting  the  window  hastily,  when 
I  caught  it  back,  and  showed  myself. 

"  John ! "  she  cried,  yet  with  sense  enough  not  to  speak 
aloud:  "oh,  you  must  be  mad,  John." 

"  As  mad  as  a  March  hare, "  said  I,  "  without  any  news  of  my 
darling.     You  knew  I  would  come:  of  course  you  did." 

"  Well,  I  thought,  perhaps you  know :  now,  John,  you 

need  not  eat  my  hand.  Do  you  see  they  have  put  iron  bars 
across?" 

"To  be  sure.  Do  you  think  I  should  be  contented,  even 
with  this  lovely  hand,  but  for  these  vile  iron  bars?  I  will 
have  them  out  before  I  go.  Now,  darling,  for  one  moment  — 
just  the  other  hand,  for  a  change,  you  know." 

So  I  got  the  other,  but  was  not  honest;  for  I  kept  them 
both,  and  felt  their  delicate  beauty  trembling,  as  I  laid  them 
to  my  heart. 

"  Oh,  John,  you  will  make  me  cry  directly  "  —  she  had  been 
crying  long  ago  —  "  if  you  go  on  in  that  way.  You  know  we 
can  never  have  one  another;  every  one  is  against  it.  Why 
should  I  make  you  miserable?  Try  not  to  think  of  me  any 
more." 

"  And  will  you  try  the  same  of  me,  Lorna?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  John ;  if  you  agree  to  it.  At  least  I  will  try  to 
try  it." 

"Then  you  won't  try  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  I  cried  with 
great  enthusiasm,  for  her  tone  was  so  nice  and  melancholy: 
"the  only  thing  we  will  try  to  try,  is  to  belong  to  one  an- 
other. And  if  we  do  our  best,  Lorna,  God  alone  can  prevent 
us." 

She  crossed  herself,  with  one  hand  drawn  free,  as  I  spoke 
so  boldly;  and  something  swelled  in  her  little  throat,  and 
prevented  her  from  answering. 

"Now  tell  me,"  I  said;  "what  means  all  this?  "VVliy  are 
you  so  pent  up  here?  Why  have  you  given  me  no  token? 
Has  your  grandfather  turned  against  you?  Are  you  in  any 
danger?" 

"  My  poor  grandfather  is  very  ill :  I  fear  that  he  will  not 


A    VERT  DESPERATE   VENTURE.  257 

live  long.  The  Counsellor  and  his  son  are  now  the  masters  of 
the  valley;  and  I  dare  not  venture  forth,  for  fear  of  any  thing 
they  might  do  to  me.  When  I  went  forth,  to  signal  for  you. 
Carver  tried  to  seize  me;  but  I  was  too  quick  for  him.  Little 
Gwenny  is  not  allowed  to  leave  the  valley  now;  so  that  I 
could  send  no  message.  I  have  been  so  wretched,  dear,  lest 
you  should  think  me  false  to  you.  The  tyrants  now  make 
sure  of  me.  You  must  watch  this  house,  both  night  and  day, 
if  you  wish  to  save  me.  There  is  nothing  they  would  shrink 
from,  if  my  poor  grandfather  —  oh,  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
myself,  when  I  ought  to  think  of  him  only;  dying  without  a 
son  to  tend  him,  or  a  daughter  to  shed  a  tear." 

"But  surely  he  has  sons  enough;  and  a  deal  too  many,"  I 
was  going  to  say,  but  stopped  myself  in  time :  "  why  do  none 
of  them  come  to  him?" 

"  I  know  not.  I  cannot  tell.  He  is  a  very  strange  old  man; 
and  few  have  ever  loved  him.  He  was  black  with  wrath  at 
the  Counsellor,  this  very  afternoon  —  but  I  must  not  keep  you 
here  —  you  are  much  too  brave,  John ;  and  I  am  much  too  self- 
ish: there,  Avhat  was  that  shadow?" 

"iSTothing  more  than  a  bat,  darling,  come  to  look  for  his 
sweetheart.  I  will  not  stay  long;  you  tremble  so:  and  yet 
for  that  very  reason,  how  can  I  leave  you,  Lorna?  " 

"You  must  —  you  must,"  she  answered;  "I  shall  die  if  they 
hurt  you.  I  hear  the  old  nurse  moving.  Grandfather  is  sure 
to  send  for  me.     Keep  back  from  the  window." 

However,  it  was  only  Gwenny  Carfax,  Lorna's  little  hand- 
maid: my  darling  brought  her  to  the  window,  and  presented 
her  to  me,  almost  laughing  through  her  grief. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  John ;  Gwenny,  I  am  so  glad  you  came. 
I  have  wanted  long  to  introduce  you  to  my  'young  man,' as 
you  call  him.  It  is  rather  dark,  but  you  can  see  him.  I  wish 
you  to  know  him  again,  Gwenny." 

"  Whoy !  "  cried  Gwenny,  with  great  amazement,  standing  on 
tiptoe  to  look  out,  and  staring  as  if  she  were  weighing  me: 
"her  be  bigger  nor  any  Doone!  Heared  as  her  have  bate  our 
Garnish  champion  awrastling.  'Twadn't  fair  play  nohow: 
no,  no;  don't  tell  mo,  'twadn't  fair  play  nohow." 

"True  enough,  Gwenny,"  I  answered  her;  for  the  play  had 
been  very  unfair  indeed  on  the  side  of  the  Bodmin  champion: 
"  it  was  not  a  fair  bout,  little  maid;  I  am  free  to  acknowl- 
edge tliat."  liy  that  answer,  or  rather  by  the  construction 
she  put  upon  it,  the  heart  of  the  Cornish  girl  was  won,  more 
than  by  gold  and  silver, 

VOL.  I.  —  17 


258  LORN  A   BOONE. 

"I  shall  knoo  thee  again,  young  man;  no  fear  of  that,"  she 
answered,  nodding  witli  an  air  of  patronage.  "  Now,  missis, 
gae  on  coortin',  and  I  wall  gae  outside  and  watch  for  'ee." 
Though  expressed  not  over  delicately,  this  proposal  arose,  no 
doubt,  from  Gwenny's  sense  of  delicacy;  and  I  was  very 
thankful  to  her  for  taking  her  departure. 

"  She  is  the  best  little  thing  in  the  world,"  said  Lorna,  softly 
laughing;  *'and  the  queerest,  and  the  truest.  Nothing  will 
bribe  her  against  me.  If  she  seems  to  be  on  the  other  side, 
never,  never  doubt  her.  Now  no  more  of  your  'coortin,'  John! 
I  love  you  far  too  well  for  that.  Yes,  yes,  ever  so  much !  If 
you  will  take  a  mean  advantage  of  me.  As  much  as  ever  you 
like  to  imagine;  and  then  you  may  double  it,  after  that. 
Only  go,  do  go,  good  John;  kind,  dear,  darling  John;  if  you 
love  me,  go." 

"How  can  I  go,  without  settling  any  thing?"  I  asked,  very 
sensibly.  "  How  shall  I  know  of  your  danger  now?  Hit  upon 
something;  you  are  so  quick.  Any  thing  you  can  think  of; 
and  then  I  will  go,  and  not  frighten  you." 

"I  have  been  thinking  long  of  something,"  Lorna  answered 
rapidly,  with  that  peculiar  clearness  of  voice,  which  made 
every  syllable  ring  like  music  of  a  several  note,  ''  you  see  that 
tree  with  the  seven  rooks'  nests,  bright  against  the  cliffs 
there?  Can  you  count  them,  from  above,  do  you  think? 
From  a  place  where  you  will  be  safe,  dear " 

''No  doubt,  I  can;  or  if  I  cannot,  it  will  not  take  me  long 
to  find  a  spot  whence  I  can  do  it." 

"  Gwenny  can  climb  like  any  cat.  She  has  been  up  there  in 
the  summer,  watching  the  young  birds,  day  by  day,  and  dar- 
ing the  boys  to  touch  them.  There  are  neither  birds,  nor  eggs 
there  now,  of  course,  and  nothing  doing.  If  you  see  but  six 
rooks'  nests,  I  am  in  peril,  and  want  you.  If  you  see  but  five, 
I  am  carried  off  by  Carver." 

"Good  God!"  said  I,  at  the  mere  idea,  in  a  tone  which 
frightened  Lorna. 

"Fear  not,  John,"  she  whispered  sadly,  and  my  blood  grew 
cold  at  it:  "I  have  means  to  stop  him;  or  at  least  to  save 
myself.  If  you  can  come  within  one  day  of  that  man's  get- 
ting hold  of  me,  you  will  find  me  quite  unharmed.  After  that 
you  will  find  me  dead,  or  alive,  according  to  circumstances, 
but  in  no  case  such  that  you  need  blush  to  look  at  me. " 

Her  dear  sweet  face  was  full  of  pride,  as  even  in  the  gloom 
I  saw:  and  I  would  not  trespass  on  her  feelings,  by  such  a 
thing,  at  such  a  moment,  as  an  attempt  at  any  caress.     I  only 


A    GOOD    TUEN  FOR  JEREMY.  259 

said,  "  God  bless  you,  darling !  "  and  she  said  the  same  to  me, 
in  a  very  low  sad  voice.  And  then  I  stole  below  Carver's 
house,  in  the  shadow  from  the  eastern  cliff;  and  knowing 
enough  of  the  village  now  to  satisfy  all  necessity,  betook  my- 
self to  my  well-known  track  in  returning  from  the  valley; 
which  Avas  neither  do"v\Ti  the  waterslide  (a  course  I  feared  in 
the  darkness)  nor  up  the  cliffs  at  Lorna's  bower;  but  a  way  of 
my  own  inventing,  which  there  is  no  need  to  dwell  upon. 

A  weight  of  care  was  off  my  mind;  though  much  of  trouble 
hung  there  still.  One  thing  was  quite  certain  —  if  Lorna 
could  not  have  John  Ridd,  no  one  else  should  have  her.  And 
my  mother,  who  sat  up  for  me,  and  with  me  long  time  after- 
wards, agreed  that  this  was  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A    GOOD    TURN    FOR   JEREMY. 

John  Fry  had  now  six  shillings  a  week  of  regular  and  per- 
manent wage,  besides  all  harvest  and  shearing  money,  as  well 
as  a  cottage  rent-free,  and  enough  of  garden-ground  to  rear 
pot-herbs  for  his  wife  and  all  his  family.  Now  the  wages 
appointed  by  our  Justices,  at  the  time  of  sessions,  were  four- 
and-sixpence  a  week  for  summer,  and  a  shilling  less  for  the 
winter-time;  and  we  could  be  fined,  and  perhaps  imprisoned, 
for  giving  more  than  tlie  sums  so  fixed.  Therefore  John  Fry 
was  looked  upon  as  tlie  richest  man  upon  Exmoor,  I  mean  of 
course  among  laborers,  and  there  were  many  jokes  about  rob- 
bing him,  as  if  he  were  the  Mint  of  the  King;  and  Tom  Faggus 
promised  to  try  his  hand,  if  he  came  across  John  on  the  high- 
way, although  he  had  ceased  from  business,  and  was  seeking  a 
Royal  pardon. 

Now  is  it  according  to  human  nature,  or  is  it  a  thing  contra- 
dictory (as  I  would  fain  ])elieve)?  But  any  how,  tlu're  was, 
upon  Exmoor,  no  more  discontented  man,  no  man  more  sure 
that  he  had  not  his  worth,  neither  lialf  so  sore  about  it,  than, 
or  as,  John  Fry  was.  And  one  thing  he  did,  which  I  could 
not  wholly  (or  indeed  I  may  say,  in  any  measure)  reconcile 
with  my  sense  of  right,  much  as  I  labored  to  do  John  justice, 
especially  because  of  his  roguery;  and  this  was,  that  if  we  said 
too  much,  or  accused  him  at  all  ol'  laziness  (whicli  lie  must 
liave  known  to  be  in  him),  he  regularly  turned  round  upon  us, 


260  LORN  A  BOONE. 

and  quite  compelled  us  to  hold  our  tongues,  by  threatening  to 
lay  information  against  us,  for  paying  him  too  much  wages ! 

Now  I  have  not  mentioned  all  this  of  John  Fry,  from  any 
disrespect  for  his  memory  (which  is  green  and  honest  amongst 
us),  far  less  from  any  desire  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  his  grand- 
children; and  I  will  do  them  the  justice,  once  for  all,  to  avow, 
thus  publicly,  that  I  have  known  a  great  many  bigger  rogues ; 
and  most  of  themselves  in  the  number.  But  I  have  referred, 
with  moderation,  to  this  little  flaw  in  a  worthy  character  (or 
foible,  as  we  call  it,  when  a  man  is  dead)  for  this  reason  only 
—  that,  without  it,  there  was  no  explaining  John's  dealings 
with  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Master  Jeremy,  being  full  of  London  and  Norwich  experi- 
ence, fell  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  we  clods  and  yokels 
were  the  simplest  of  the  simple,  and  could  be  cheated  at  his 
good  pleasure.  Now  this  is  not  so :  when  once  we  suspect  that 
people  have  that  idea  of  us,  we  indulge  them  in  it  to  the  top  of 
their  bent,  and  grieve  that  they  should  come  out  of  it,  as  they 
do  at  last  in  amazement,  with  less  money  than  before,  and  the 
laugh  now  set  against  them. 

Ever  since  I  had  offended  Jeremy,  by  threatening  him  (as 
before  related)  in  case  of  his  meddling  with  my  affairs,  he  had 
more  and  more  allied  himself  with  simple-minded  John,  as 
he  was  pleased  to  call  him.  John  Fry  was  every  thing:  it 
was  "  run  and  fetch  my  horse,  John  "  —  "  John,  are  my  pis- 
tols primed  well?"  —  "I  want  you  in  the  stable,  John,  about 
something  very  particular;  "  until  except  for  the  rudeness  of 
it,  I  was  longing  to  tell  Master  Stickles  that  he  ought  to  pay 
John's  wages.  John  for  his  part  was  not  backward,  but  gave 
himself  the  most  wonderful  airs  of  secrecy  and  importance, 
till  half  the  parish  began  to  think  that  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
were  in  his  hand;  and  he  scorned  the  sight  of  a  dungfork. 

It  was  not  likely  that  this  should  last;  and  being  the  only 
man  in  the  parish  with  any  knowledge  of  politics,  I  gave 
John  Fry  to  understand  that  he  must  not  presume  to  talk  so 
freely,  as  if  he  were  at  least  a  constable,  about  the  constitu- 
tion; which  could  be  no  affair  of  his,  and  might  bring  us  all 
into  trouble.  At  this  he  only  tossed  his  nose,  as  if  he  had 
been  in  London  at  least  three  times  for  my  one ;  which  vexed 
me  so  that  I  promised  him  the  tliick  end  of  the  ploi;gh-whip, 
if  even  the  name  of  a  knight  of  the  shire  should  pass  his  lips 
for  a  fortnight. 

Now  I  did  not  suspect  in  my  stupid  noddle,  that  John  Fry 
would   ever  tell   Jeremy   Stickles   about    the    sight    at    the 


A   GOOD   TURN  FOR  JEREMY.  261 

"Wizard's  Slough,  and  the  man  in  the  white  nightcap;  because 
John  had  sworn  on  the  blade  of  his  knife,  not  to  breathe  a 
"word  to  any  soul,  without  my  full  permission.  However,  it 
appears  that  John  related,  for  a  certain  consideration,  all  that 
he  had  seen,  and  doubtless  more  which  had  accrued  to  it. 
Upon  this  ^Master  Stickles  was  much  astonished  at  Uncle 
Keuben's  proceedings,  having  always  accounted  him  a  most 
loyal,  keen,  and  wary  subject. 

All  this  I  learned  upon  recovering  Jeremy's  good  graces, 
which  came  to  pass  in  no  other  way  than  by  tlie  saving  of  his 
life.  Being  bound  to  keep  the  strictest  watch  upon  the  seven 
rooks'  nests,  and  yet  not  bearing  to  be  idle,  and  to  waste  my 
mother's  stores,  I  contrived  to  keep  my  work  entirely  at  the 
western  corner  of  our  farm,  which  was  nearest  to  Glen  Doone, 
and  whence  I  could  easily  run  to  a  height  commanding  the 
view  I  coveted. 

One  day.  Squire  Faggus  had  dropped  in  upon  us,  just  in 
time  for  dinner;  and  very  soon  he  and  King's  messenger  were 
as  thick  as  need  be.  Tom  had  brought  his  beloved  mare,  to 
show  her  oft"  to  Annie,  and  he  mounted  his  pretty  sweetheart 
upon  her,  after  giving  Winnie  notice  to  be  on  her  very  best 
behavior.  The  squire  was  in  great  spirits,  having  just  accom- 
plished a  purchase  of  land  which  was  worth  ten  times  Avhat  he 
gave  for  it;  and  this  he  did  by  a  merry  trick  upon  old  Sir 
Roger  Bassett,  who  never  supposed  him  to  be  in  earnest,  as  not 
possessing  the  money.  The  whole  thing  was  done  on  a  bumper 
of  claret,  in  a  tavern  where  they  met;  and  the  old  knight, 
having  once  pledged  his  word,  no  lawyers  could  hold  him  back 
from  it.  They  could  only  say  that  Master  Faggiis,  being 
attainted  of  felony,  was  not  a  capable  grantee.  "  1  will  soon 
cure  that,"  quoth  Tom,  "my  pardon  has  been  ready  for  months 
and  months,  so  soon  as  I  care  to  sue  it." 

And  now  he  was  telling  our  Annie,  who  listened  very  rosily, 
and  believed  every  word  he  said,  that,  having  been  ruined  in 
early  innocence  by  the  means  of  lawyers,  it  was  only  just,  and 
fair  turn  for  turn,  that  having  became  a  matcli  for  them  by 
long  practice  upon  the  highway,  he  should  reinstate  himself, 
at  their  expense,  in  society.  And  now  he  would  go  to  London 
at  once,  and  sue  out  his  ])ardon;  and  tlion  would  his  lovely 
darling  Annie,  &c.,  &c.  — tilings  which  I  had  no  right  to  hear, 
and  in  which  I  was  not  wanted. 

Tlierefore  I  strode  away  up  the  lane  to  my  afternoon's 
employment,  sadly  comparing  my  love  with  theirs  (which  now 
appeared  so  prosperous),  yet  heartily  glad  for  Annie's  sakej 


262  LORNA  DOONE. 

only   remembering  now  and  then  the  old   proverb,  "Wrong 
never  comes  right." 

I  worked  very  hard  in  the  copse  of  young  ash,  with  my  bill- 
hook and  a  shearing-knife:  cutting  out  the  saplings  where 
they  stooled  too  close  together,  making  spars  to  keep  for 
thatching,  wall-crooks  to  drive  into  the  cob,  stiles  for  close 
sheep-hurdles,  and  handles  for  rakes,  and  hoes,  and  two-bills, 
of  the  larger  and  straighter  stuff.  And  all  the  lesser  I  bound 
in  faggots,  to  come  home  on  the  sledd  to  the  woodrick.  It  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  I  did  all  this  work,  without  many 
peeps  at  the  seven  rooks'  nests,  which  proved  my  Lorna's 
safety.  Indeed,  whenever  I  wanted  a  change,  either  from 
cleaving,  or  hewing  too  hard,  or  stooping  too  much  at  bind- 
ing, I  was  up  and  away  to  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  instead  of 
standing  and  doing  nothing. 

Soon  I  forgot  about  Tom  and  Annie;  and  fell  to  thinking  of 
Lorna  only;  and  how  much  I  would  make  of  her;  and  what 
I  should  call  our  children ;  and  how  I  would  educate  them,  to 
do  honor  to  her  rank;  yet  all  the  time  I  worked  none  the 
worse,  by  reason  of  meditation.  Fresh-cut  spars  are  not  so 
good  as  those  of  a  little  seasoning;  especially  if  the  sap  was 
not  gone  down  at  the  time  of  cutting.  Therefore  we  always 
find  it  needful  to  have  plenty  still  in  stock. 

It  was  very  pleasant  there  in  the  copse,  sloping  to  the  west 
as  it  was,  and  the  sun  descending  brightly,  with  rocks  and 
banks  to  dwell  upon.  The  stems  of  mottled  and  dimpled  wood, 
with  twigs  coming  out  like  elbows,  hung  and  clung  together 
closely,  with  a  mode  of  bending  in,  as  children  do  at  some 
danger;  overhead  the  shrunken  leaves  quivered  and  rustled 
ripely,  having  many  points  like  stars,  and  rising  and  falling 
delicately,  as  fingers  play  sad  music.  Along  the  bed  of  the 
slanting  ground,  all  between  the  stools  of  wood,  there  were 
heaps  of  dead  brown  leaves,  and  sheltered  mats  of  lichen,  and 
drifts  of  spotted  stick  gone  rotten,  and  tufts  of  rushes  here 
and  there,  full  of  fray  and  feathering. 

All  by  the  hedge  ran  a  little  stream,  a  thing  that  could 
barely  name  itself,  flowing  scarce  more  than  a  pint  in  a 
minute,  because  of  the  sunny  weather.  Yet  had  this  rill 
little  crooks  and  crannies,  dark  and  bravely  bearded,  and  a 
gallant  rush  through  a  reeden  pipe  —  the  stem  of  a  flag  that 
was  grounded;  and  here  and  there  divided  threads,  from  the 
points  of  a  branching  stick,  into  mighty  pools  of  rock  (as 
large  as  a  grown  man's  hat  almost)  napped  with  moss  all 
around  the  sides  and  hung  with  corded  grasses.     Along  and 


A   GOOD   TURN  FOB  JEREMY.  263 

down  the  tiny  banks,  and  nodding  into  one  another,  even 
across  main  cliannel,  hung  the  brown  arcade  of  ferns;  some 
with  gokl  tongues  languishing;  some  with  countless  ear-drops 
jerking;  some  with  great  quilled  ribs  uprising  and  long  saws 
ailapping;  others  cupped,  and  fanning  over  with  the  grace  of 
yielding,  even  as  a  hollow  fountain  spread  by  winds  that  have 
lost  their  way. 

Deeply  each  beyond  other,  pluming,  stooping,  glancing, 
glistening,  Aveaving  softest  pillow-lace,  coying  to  the  wind  and 
water,  where  their  fleeting  image  danced,  or  by  which  their 
beauty  moved, — God  has  made  no  lovelier  thing;  and  only 
He  takes  heed  of  them. 

It  was  time  to  go  home  to  supper  now,  and  I  felt  very 
friendly  towards  it,  having  been  hard  at  work  for  some  hours, 
with  only  the  voice  of  the  little  rill,  and  some  hares,  and  a 
pheasant,  for  company.  The  sun  was  gone  down  behind  the 
black  wood  on  the  further  cliffs  of  Bagworthy,  and  the  russet 
of  the  tufts  and  spear-beds  was  becoming  gray,  while  the 
grayness  of  the  sa})ling  ash  grew  brown  against  the  sky; 
the  hollow  curves  of  the  little  stream  became  black  beneath 
the  grasses  and  the  fairy  fans  innumerable;  Avhile  outside  the 
hedge  our  clover  was  crimping  its  leaves  in  the  dewfall,  like 
the  cocked  hats  of  wood-sorrel,  —  when,  thanking  God  for  all 
this  scene,  because  my  love  had  gifted  me  with  the  key  to  all 
things  lovely,  I  prepared  to  follow  their  example,  and  to  rest 
from  labor. 

Therefore  I  wiped  my  bill-hook  and  shearing-knife  very 
carefully,  for  I  hate  to  leave  tools  dirty;  and  was  doubting 
whether  I  sliould  try  for  another  glance  at  the  seven  rooks' 
nests,  or  whether  it  would  be  too  dark  for  it.  It  was  now  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  mayhap,  since  I  had  made  any  chojjping 
noise,  because  I  had  been  assorting  my  spars,  and  tying  them 
in  bundles,  instead  of  plying  the  bill-hook;  and  the  gentle 
tinkle  of  the  stream  was  louder  than  my  doings.  To  this,  no 
doubt,  I  owe  my  life,  which  then  (without  my  dreaming  it) 
was  in  no  little  jeopardy. 

For,  just  as  I  was  twisting  the  bine  of  my  very  last  faggot, 
before  tucking  the  cleft  tongue  under,  there  came  three  men 
outside  tlie  hedge,  where  the  western  light  was  yellow;  and 
by  it  I  could  see  that  all  three  of  them  carried  fire-arms. 
Those  men  were  not  walking  carelessly,  but  following  down 
the  liedge-trough,  as  if  to  stalk  some  enemy :  and  for  a  moment 
it  struck  me  cohl,  to  think  it  was  I  they  wen;  looking  for. 
With  the  swiftness  of  terror,  I  concluded  tliat  my  visits  to 
Glen  Doone  were  known,  and  now  my  life  was  the  forfeit. 


264  LORNA  DOONE. 

It  was  a  most  lucky  thing  for  me,  that  I  heard  their  clothes 
catch  in  the  brambles,  and  saw  their  hats  under  the  rampart 
of  ash,  which  is  made  by  what  we  call  "splashing,"  and  lucky 
for  me  that  I  stood  in  a  goyal,  and  had  the  dark  coppice  behind 
me.  To  this  1  had  no  time  to  fly,  but  with  a  sort  of  instinct, 
threw  myself  flat  in  among  the  thick  fern,  and  held  my  breath, 
and  lay  still  as  a  log.  For  I  had  seen  the  light  gleam  on  their 
gun-barrels,  and  knowing  the  faults  of  the  neighborhood, 
would  fain  avoid  swelling  their  number.  Then  the  three  men 
came  to  the  gap  in  the  hedge,  where  I  had  been  in  and  out  so 
often ;  and  stood  up,  and  looked  in  over. 

It  is  all  very  well  for  a  man  to  boast  that,  in  all  his  life,  he 
has  never  been  frightened,  and  believes  that  he  never  could  be 
so.  There  may  be  men  of  that  nature  —  I  will  not  dare  to  deny 
it;  only  I  have  never  known  them.  The  fright  I  was  now  in 
was  horrible,  and  all  my  bones  seemed  to  creep  inside  me; 
when  lying  there  helpless,  with  only  a  billet  and  the  comb  of 
fern  to  hide  me,  in  the  dusk  of  early  evening,  I  saw  three 
faces  in  the  gap;  and  what  was  worse,  three  gun-muzzles. 

"  Somebody  been  at  work  here  —  "  it  was  the  deep  voice  of 
Carver  Doone;  "jump  up,  Charlie,  and  look  about;  we  must 
have  no  witnesses." 

"Give  me  a  hand  behind,"  said  Charlie,  the  same  handsome 
young  Doone  I  had  seen  that  night;  "this  bank  is  too  devilish 
steep  for  me." 

"  Nonsense,  man !  "  cried  Marwood  de  Whichehalse,  who  to 
my  amazement  was  the  third  of  the  number;  "only  a  hind 
cutting  faggots ;  and  of  course  he  hath  gone  home  long  ago. 
Blind  man's  holiday,  as  we  call  it.  I  can  see  all  over  the 
place;  and  there  is  not  even  a  rabbit  there." 

At  that  I  drew  my  breath  again,  and  thanked  God  I  had 
gotten  my  coat  on. 

"Squire  is  right,"  said  Charlie,  who  was  standing  up  high 
(on  a  root  perhaps),  "there  is  nobody  there  now,  captain;  and 
lucky  for  the  poor  devil  that  he  keepeth  workman's  hours. 
Even  his  chopper  is  gone,  I  see." 

"  No  dog,  no  man,  is  the  rule  about  here,  when  it  comes  to 
coppice  work,"  continued  young  de  Whichehalse;  "there  is 
Qot  a  man  would  dare  work  there,  without  a  dog  to  scare  the 
pixies." 

"  There  is  a  big  young  fellow  upon  this  farm,"  Carver  Doone 
muttered  sulkily,  "  with  whom  I  have  an  account  to  settle,  if 
ever  I  come  across  him.  He  hath  a  cursed  spite  to  us,  be- 
sause  we  shot  his  father.     He  was  going  to  bring  the  lumpers 


A    GOOD    TUBN  FOR  JEREMY.  265 

upon  us,  only  he  was  afeared,  last  winter.     And  lie  hath  been 
in  London  lately,  for  some  traiterous  job,  I  doubt." 

"'Oh,  you  mean  that  fool,  John  Ridd,"  answered  the  young 
squire;  "a  very  simple  clod-hopper.  No  treachery  in  him,  I 
warrant;  he  hath  not  the  head  for  it.  All  he  cares  about  is 
wrestling.     As  strong  as  a  bull,  and  with  no  more  brains." 

"A  bullet  for  that  bull,"  said  Carver;  and  I  could  see  the 
grin  on  his  scornful  face;  "a  bullet  for  ballast  to  his  brain, 
the  first  time  I  come  across  him." 

"Nonsense,  captain!  I  won't  have  him  shot,  for  he  is  my 
old  school-fellow,  and  hath  a  very  pretty  sister.  But  his 
cousin  is  of  a  different  mould,  and  ten  times  as  dangerous." 

"  We  shall  see,  lads,  we  shall  see,"  grumbled  the  great  black- 
bearded  man.  "  111  bodes  for  the  fool  that  would  hinder  me. 
But  come,  let  us  onward.  No  lingering,  or  the  viper  will  be 
in  the  bush  from  us.  Body  and  soul,  if  he  give  us  the  slip, 
both  of  you  shall  answer  it." 

"No  fear,  captain,  and  no  hurry,"  Charlie  answered  gal- 
lantly; "would  I  were  as  sure  of  living  a  twelvemonth,  as  he 
is  of  dying  within  the  hour!  Extreme  unction  for  him  in  my 
bullet  patch.  Remember,  I  claim  to  be  liis  confessor,  because 
he  hath  insulted  me." 

"Thou  art  welcome  to  the  job  for  me,"  said  Marwood,  as 
they  turned  away,  and  kept  along  the  hedge-row ;  "  I  love  to 
meet  a  man,  sword  to  sword;  not  to  pop  at  him  from  a  fox- 
hole." 

What  answer  was  made  I  could  not  hear,  for  by  this  time 
the  stout  ashen  hedge  was  between  us,  and  no  other  gap  to  be 
found  in  it,  until  at  the  very  bottom,  where  the  corner  of  the 
copse  was.  Yet  was  I  not  quit  of  danger  now;  for  they  might 
come  through  that  second  gap,  and  then  would  be  sure  to  see 
me,  unless  I  crept  into  the  uncut  thicket,  before  they  could 
enter  the  clearing.  But  in  spite  of  all  my  fear,  I  was  not  wise 
enough  to  do  that.  And  in  truth,  the  words  of  Carver  Doone 
had  filled  me  with  such  anger,  knowing  what  I  did  about  him, 
and  his  pretence  to  Lorna;  and  the  sight  of  Squire  Marwood, 
in  such  outrageous  com})any,  liad  so  moved  my  curiosity,  and 
their  threats  against  some  unknown  person  so  aroused  my  j)ity, 
that  mucli  of  my  prudence  was  forgotten,  or  at  least  the  better 
part  of  (;(jurage,   whicli  loves  danger  at  long  distance. 

Therefore,  holding  fast  my  bill-hook,  I  dropped  myself  very 
quietly  into  the  IkhI  of  the  runnel,  being  r(>solved  to  take  my 
chance  of  thfur  entrance  at  the  corner,  where  tlie  water  dived 
through   the  hedge-row.      And  so  I  followed  them  down  the 


2GG  LOENA   BOONE. 

fence,  as  gently  as  a  rabbit  goes;  only  I  was  inside  it,  and 
they  on  the  outside;  but  yet  so  near,  that  I  heard  the  branches 
rustle  as  they  pushed  them. 

Perhaps  I  had  never  loved  ferns  so  much  as  when  I  came  to 
the  end  of  that  little  gully,  and  stooped  betwixt  two  patches 
of  them,  now  my  chief  est  shelter;  for  cattle  had  been  through 
the  gap  just  there,  in  quest  of  fodder  and  coolness,  and  had 
left  but  a  mound  of  trodden  earth  between  me  and  the  out- 
laws. I  mean  at  least  on  my  left  hand  (upon  which  side  they 
were),  for  in  front  where  the  brook  ran  out  of  the  copse  was  a 
good  stift'  hedge  of  holly.  And  now  I  prayed  Heaven  to  lead 
them  straight  on;  for  if  they  once  turned  to  their  right, 
through  the  gap,  the  muzzles  of  their  guns  would  come  almost 
against  my  forehead. 

I  heard  them,  for  I  durst  not  look ;  and  could  scarce  keep 
still,  for  trembling  —  I  heard  them  trampling  outside  the  gap; 
uncertain  which  track  they  should  follow.  And  in  that  fear- 
ful moment,  with  my  soul  almost  looking  out  of  my  body, 
expecting  notice  to  quit  it,  what  do  you  think  I  did?  I 
counted  the  threads  in  a  spider's  web,  and  the  flies  he  had 
lately  eaten,  as  their  skeletons  shook  in  the  twilight. 

"We  shall  see  him  better  in  there,"  said  Carver,  in  his  hor- 
rible gruff  voice,  like  the  creaking  of  the  gallows  chain;  "sit 
there,  behind  holly  hedge,  lads,  while  he  cometh  down  yonder 
hill;  and  then  our  good  evening  to  him;  one  at  his  body,  and 
two  at  his  head;  and  good  aim,  lest  we  baulk  the  devil." 

"I  tell  you,  captain,  that  will  not  do,"  said  Charlie,  almost 
whispering :  "  you  are  very  proud  of  your  skill,  we  know,  and 
can  hit  a  lark  if  you  see  it :  but  he  may  not  come  until  after 
dark,  and  we  cannot  be  too  nigh  to  him.  This  holly  hedge  is 
too  far  away.  He  crosses  down  here  from  Slocombslade,  not 
from  Tibbacot,  I  tell  you;  but  along  that  track  to  the  left 
there,  and  so  by  the  foreland  to  Glenthorne,  where  his  boat  is 
in  the  cove.  Do  you  think  I  have  tracked  him  so  many  even- 
ings, without  knowing  his  line  to  a  hair?  Will  you  fool  away 
all  my  trouble?" 

"Come  then,  lad;  we  will  follow  thy  lead.  Thy  life  for 
Ms,  if  we  fail  of  it." 

"  After  me  then,  right  into  the  hollow ;  thy  legs  are  grow- 
ing stiff,  captain." 

"  So  shall  tliy  body  be,  young  man,  if  thou  leadest  me  astray 
in  this." 

I  heard  them  stumbling  down  the  hill,  which  was  steep  and 
rocky  in  that  part;  and  peering  through   the  hedge,  I  saw 


"AS    1    si-:i/.i:i)    ui'oN    his    UkiuLi;."  —  Vol.   I.   p.   267. 


A    GOOD    TURN  FOR  JEREMY.  267 

them  enter  a  covert,  by  tlie  side  of  the  track  Avhich  INIaster 
Stickles  followed,  almost  every  evening,  when  he  left  our 
house  upon  business.  And  then  I  knew  who  it  was  they  were 
come  on  purpose  to  murder  —  a  thing  which  I  might  have 
guessed  long  before,  but  for  terror  and  cold  stupidity. 

"Oh  that  God,"  I  thought  for  a  moment,  waiting  for  my 
blood  to  flow;  "oh  that  God  had  given  me  brains,  to  meet 
such  cruel  dastards  according  to  their  villany!  The  power 
to  lie,  and  the  love  of  it;  the  stealth  to  spy,  and  the  glory  in 
it;  above  all,  the  quiet  relish  for  blood,  and  joy  in  the  death 
of  an  enemy  —  these  are  what  any  man  must  have,  to  contend 
with  the  Doones  upon  even  terms.  And  yet,  I  thank  God  that 
I  have  not  any  of  these." 

It  was  no  time  to  dwell  upon  that,  only  to  try,  if  might  be, 
to  prevent  the  crime  they  were  bound  upon.  To  follow  the 
armed  men  down  the  hill  would  have  been  certain  death  to  me, 
because  there  was  no  covert  there,  and  the  last  light  hung  upon 
it.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  my  only  chance  to  stop  the  mis- 
chief pending  was  to  compass  the  round  of  the  hill,  as  fast  as 
feet  could  be  laid  to  ground;  only  keeping  out  of  sight  from 
the  valley,  and  then  down  the  rocks,  and  across  the  brook,  to 
the  track  from  Slocombslade ;  so  as  to  stop  the  king's  messen- 
ger from  travelling  any  further,  if  only  I  could  catch  him 
there. 

And  this  was  exactly  what  I  did;  and  a  terrible  run  I  had 
for  it,  fearing  at  every  step  to  hear  the  echo  of  shots  in  the 
valley,  and  dropping  down  the  scrubby  rocks  with  tearing  and 
violent  scratching.  Then  I  crossed  l^agAvorthy  stream,  not  far 
below  Doone-valley,  and  breasted  the  hill  towards  Slocomb- 
slade, with  my  heart  very  heavily  panting.  Why  Jeremy  chose 
to  ride  this  way,  instead  of  the  more  direct  one  (which  would 
have  been  over  Oare-hill),  was  more  than  I  could  account  for : 
but  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  that;  all  I  wanted  was  to  save 
his  life. 

And  this  I  did  by  about  a  minute;  and  (which  was  the  hard- 
est thing  of  all)  with  a  great  horse-pistol  at  my  head,  as  I 
seized  upon  his  bridle. 

"Jeremy,  Jerry,"  was  all  I  could  say,  being  so  fearfully 
short  of  breath;  for  I  had  crossed  tlie  ground  quicker  than 
any  horse  could. 

"  Spoken  just  in  time,  John  llidd!"  cried  Master  Stickles, 
still  however  ])ointing  the  ])istol  at  me:  "I  might  have  known 
thee  Vjy  tliy  size,  John.     What  art  doing  here?" 

"  Come  to  save  vour  life.     For  God's  sake,  go  no  further. 


268  LORNA  BOONE. 

Three  men  in  the  covert  there,  with  long  guns,  waiting  for 
thee." 

"Ha!  I  have  been  watched  of  late.  That  is  why  I  pointed 
at  thee,  John.  Back  round  this  corner,  and  get  thy  breath, 
and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  hurried.  I 
could  beat  thee  now,  John." 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  a  man  of  courage,  and  presence  of 
mind,  and  much  resource :  otherwise  he  would  not  have  been 
appointed  for  this  business;  nevertheless  he  trembled  greatly, 
when  he  heard  what  I  had  to  tell  him.  But  I  took  good  care 
to  keep  back  the  name  of  young  Marwood  de  Whichehalse; 
neither  did  I  show  my  knowledge  of  the  other  men;  for  rea- 
sons of  my  own  not  very  hard  to  conjecture. 

"  We  will  let  them  cool  their  heels,  John  Ridd,"  said  Jeremy, 
after  thinking  a  little.  "  I  cannot  fetch  my  musketeers  either 
from  Glenthorne  or  Lynmouth,  in  time  to  seize  the  fellows. 
And  three  desperate  Doones,  well-armed,  are  too  many  for 
you  and  me.  One  result  this  attempt  will  have,  it  will  make 
us  attack  them  sooner  than  we  had  intended.  And  one  more 
it  will  have,  good  John,  it  will  make  me  thy  friend  for  ever. 
Shake  hands,  my  lad,  and  forgive  me  freely  for  having  been 
so  cold  to  thee.  Mayhap,  in  the  troubles  coming,  it  will  help 
thee  not  a  little  to  have  done  me  this  good  turn." 

Upon  that  he  shook  me  by  the  hand,  with  a  pressure  such 
as  we  feel  not  often ;  and  having  learned  from  me  how  to  pass 
quite  beyond  view  of  his  enemies,  he  rode  on  to  his  duty, 
whatever  it  might  be.  For  my  part,  I  was  inclined  to  stay, 
and  watch  how  long  the  three  fusileers  would  have  the  patience 
to  lie  in  wait;  but  seeing  less  and  less  use  in  that,  as  I  grew 
more  and  more  hungry,  I  swung  my  coat  about  me,  and  went 
home  to  Plover's  Barrows. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  TROUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE. 

Stickles  took  me  aside  the  next  day,  and  opened  all  his 
business  to  me,  whether  I  would  or  not.  But  I  gave  him  clearly 
to  understand  that  he  was  not  to  be  vexed  with  me,  neither  to 
regard  me  as  in  any  way  dishonest,  if  I  should  use  for  my  own 
purpose,  or  for  the  benefit  of  my  friends,  any  part  of  the 
knowledge,  and  privity,  thus  enforced  upon  me.     To  this  he 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      269 

agreed  quite  readily;  but  upon  the  express  provision  that  I 
shoukl  do  nothing  to  thwart  his  schemes,  neither  unfokl  them 
to  any  one;  but  otherwise  be  allowed  to  act  according  to  my 
own  conscience,  and  as  consisted  with  the  honor  of  a  loyal 
gentleman  —  for  so  he  was  pleased  to  term  me.  jSTow  what  he 
said  lay  in  no  great  compass,  and  may  be  summed  in  smaller 
still ;  especially  as  people  know  the  chief  part  of  it  already. 
Disaffection  to  the  King,  or  rather  dislike  to  his  brother, 
James,  and  fear  of  Roman  ascendancy,  had  existed  now  for 
several  years,  and  of  late  were  spreading  rapidly;  partly 
through  the  downright  arrogance  of  the  Tory  faction,  the 
cruelty  and  austerity  of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  corruption  of 
justice,  and  contiscation  of  ancient  rights  and  charters ;  partly 
through  jealousy  of  the  French  king,  and  his  potent  voice  in 
our  affairs ;  and  partly  (or  perhaps  one  might  even  say,  mainly) 
through  that  natural  tide  in  all  political  channels,  which 
verily  moves  as  if  it  had  the  moon  itself  for  its  mistress.  No 
sooner  is  a  thing  done  and  fixed,  being  set  far  in  advance 
perhaps  of  all  that  was  done  before  (like  a  new  mole  in  the 
sea),  but  immediately  the  waters  retire,  lest  they  should 
undo  it;  and  every  one  says  how  tine  it  is,  but  leaves  other 
people  to  walk  on  it.  Then  after  awhile,  the  vague  endless 
ocean,  having  retired  and  lain  still  without  a  breeze  or  mur- 
mur, frets  and  heaves  again  with  impulse,  or  with  lashes  laid 
on  it,  and  in  one  great  surge  advances  over  every  rampart. 

And  so  there  was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  a  great  surge  in 
England,  not  rolling  yet,  but  seething:  and  one  which  a 
thousand  Chief  Justices,  and  a  million  Jeremy  Stickles, 
should  never  be  able  to  stop  or  turn,  by  stringing  up  men  in 
front  of  it;  any  more  than  a  rope  of  onions  can  repulse  a  vol- 
cano. But  the  worst  of  it  was,  that  this  great  movement  took 
a  wrong  channel  at  first;  not  only  missing  legitimate  line, 
but  roaring  out  that  the  back  ditchway  was  the  true  and  estab- 
lished course  of  it. 

Against  this  rash  and  random  current  nearly  all  the  ancient 
mariners  of  tlie  State  were  set;  not  to  allow  tlie  brave  sliip  to 
drift  there,  though  some  little  boats  might  try  it.  For  the 
present  there  seemed  to  be  a  pause,  with  no  open  onset,  but 
people  on  the  shore  expecting,  each  according  to  his  wishes, 
and  the  feel  of  his  own  finger,  whence  the  rush  of  wind  should 
come,  which  might  direct  the  water. 

Now,  — to  reduce  high  figures  of  speech  into  our  own  little 
numerals, —  all  the  towns  of  Somersetshire  and  luilf  the  towns 
of   Devonshire  were    full  of   pushing  eager  i)eople,   ready  to 


270  lor:^a  boone. 

swallow  any  thing,  or  to  make  others  swallow  it.  Whether 
they  believed  the  folly  about  the  black  box,  and  all  that  stuff, 
is  not  for  me  to  say ;  only  one  thing  I  know,  they  pretended 
to  do  so,  and  persuaded  the  ignorant  rustics.  Taunton, 
Bridgewater,  Minehead,  and  Dulverton  took  the  lead  of  the 
other  towns  in  utterance  of  their  discontent,  and  threats  of 
what  they  meant  to  do,  if  ever  a  Papist  dared  to  climb  the 
Protestant  throne  of  England.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Tory 
leaders  were  not  as  yet  under  apprehension  of  an  immediate 
outbreak,  and  feared  to  damage  their  own  cause  by  premature 
coercion,  for  the  struggle  was  not  very  likely  to  begin  in  ear- 
nest, during  the  life  of  the  present  King;  unless  he  should  (as 
some  people  hoped)  be  so  far  emboldened  as  to  make  public 
profession  of  the  faith  which  he  held  (if  any).  So  the  Tory 
policy  was  to  watch,  not  indeed  permitting  their  opponents  to 
gather  strength,  and  muster  in  armed  force  or  with  order,  but 
being  well  apprised  of  all  their  schemes  and  intended  move- 
ments, to  wait  for  some  bold  overt  act,  and  then  to  strike 
severely.  And  as  a  Tory  watchman  —  or  spy,  as  the  Whigs 
would  call  him  —  Jeremy  Stickles  was  now  among  us ;  and 
his  duty  was  threefold. 

First,  and  most  ostensibly,  to  see  to  the  levying  of  poundage 
in  the  little  haven  of  Lynmouth,  and  further  up  the  coast, 
which  was  now  becoming  a  place  of  resort  for  the  folk  whom 
we  call  smugglers,  that  is  to  say,  who  land  their  goods  with- 
out regard  to  King's  revenue,  as  by  law  established.  And 
indeed  there  had  been  no  officer  aj)pointed  to  take  toll,  until 
one  had  been  sent  to  Minehead,  not  so  very  long  before.  The 
excise  as  well  (which  had  been  ordered  in  the  time  of  the  Long 
Parliament)  had  been  little  heeded  by  the  people  hereabouts. 

Second,  his  duty  was  (though  only  the  Doones  had  dis- 
covered it)  to  watch  those  outlaws  narrowly,  and  report  of 
their  manners  (which  were  scanty),  doings  (which  were  too 
manifold),  reputation  (which  was  execrable),  and  politics 
(whether  true  to  the  King  and  the  Pope,  or  otherwise). 

Jeremy  Stickles'  third  business  was  entirely  political;  to 
learn  the  temper  of  our  people  and  the  gentle  families,  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  trained  bands  (which  could  not 
always  be  trusted),  to  discover  any  collecting  of  arms  and 
drilling  of  men  among  us,  to  prevent  (if  need  were,  by  open 
force)  any  importation  of  gunpowder,  of  which  there  had 
been  some  rumor;  in  a  word,  to  observe  and  forestall  the 
enemy. 

Now  in  providing  for  this  last-mentioned  service,  the  Gov- 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      271 

ernmeut  liad  made  a  great  mistake,  doubtless  tlirougli  their 
anxiety  to  escape  any  public  attention.  For  all  the  disposa- 
ble force  at  their  emissary's  command  amounted  to  no  more 
than  a  score  of  musketeers,  and  these  so  divided  along  the 
coast  as  scarcely  to  suffice  for  the  duty  of  sentinels.  He  held 
a  commission,  it  is  true,  for  the  employment  of  the  train- 
bands, but  upon  the  understanding  that  he  was  not  to  call  upon 
them  (except  as  a  last  resource)  for  any  political  object; 
although  he  might  use  them  against  the  Doones  as  private 
criminals,  if  found  needful;  and  supposing  that  he  could  get 
them. 

"So  you  see,  John,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "I  have  more 
work  than  tools  to  do  it  with.  I  am  heartily  sorry  I  ever 
accepted  such  a  mixed  and  meagre  commission.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  it  lies  (I  am  well  convinced)  not  only  the  desire  to 
keep  things  quiet,  but  the  paltry  jealousy  of  the  military 
people.  Because  I  am  not  a  Colonel,  forsooth,  or  a  Captain 
in  His  Majesty's  service,  it  would  never  do  to  trust  me  with 
a  company  of  soldiers !  And  yet  they  would  not  send  either 
Colonel  or  Captain,  for  fear  of  a  stir  in  the  rustic  mind.  The 
only  thing  that  I  can  do,  with  any  chance  of  success,  is  to  rout 
out  these  vile  Doone  fellows,  and  burn  their  houses  over  their 
heads.     Now  what  think  you  of  that,  John  Ridd?" 

"Destroy  the  town  of  the  Doones,"  I  said,  "and  all  the 
Doones  inside  it!  Surely,  Jeremy,  you  would  never  think  of 
such  a  cruel  act  as  that !  " 

"  A  cruel  act,  John !  It  would  be  a  mercy  for  at  least  three 
counties.  No  doubt  you  folk,  who  live  so  near,  are  well 
accustomed  to  them,  and  would  miss  your  liveliness  in  com- 
ing home  after  nightfall,  and  the  joy  of  finding  your  sheep  aiui 
cattle^  I'ight,  when  you  not  expected  it.  But  after  awliile  you 
might  get  used  to  the  dulness  of  being  safe  in  your  IhhIs,  and 
not  losing  your  sisters  and  sweethearts.  Surely,  on  the  whole, 
it  is  as  pheasant  not  to  Ije  robbed  as  to  be  robbed?" 

"I  think  we  should  miss  tliem  very  much,"  I  ansAvered, 
after  consideration;  for  the  possibility  of  having  no  Doones 
had  never  yet  occurred  to  me,  and  we  all  were  so  thoroughly 
used  to  them,  and  allowed  for  it  in  our  year's  reckoning;  "I 
am  sure  we  should  miss  them  very  sadly;  and  something 
worse  would  come  of  it." 

"Thou  art  tlui  staunchest  of  all  staunch  Tories,"  cried 
Stickles,  laugliing,  as  he  shook  my  hand;  "thou  believest  in 
the  divine  right  of  robbers,  who  are  good  enough  to  steal  thy 
own  fat  sheep.      I  am  a  jolly  Tory,  John;  but  thou  art  ten 


272  LORNA   BOONE. 

times  jollier:  oh!  the  grief  in  thy  face  at  the  thought  of 
being  robbed  no  longer !  " 

He  laughed  in  a  very  unseemly  manner;  while  I  descried 
nothing  to  laugh  about.  For  we  always  like  to  see  our  way ; 
and  a  sudden  change  upsets  us.  And  unless  it  were  in  the 
loss  of  the  farm,  or  the  death  of  the  King,  or  of  Betty  Mux- 
worthy,  there  was  nothing  that  could  so  unsettle  our  minds  as 
the  loss  of  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy. 

And  beside  all  this,  I  was  thinking,  of  course,  and  thinking 
more  than  all  the  rest,  about  the  troubles  that  might  ensue  to 
my  own  beloved  Lorna.  If  an  attack  of  Glen  Doone  were 
made  by  savage  soldiers  and  rude  train-bands,  what  might 
happen,  or  what  might  not,  to  my  delicate,  innocent  darling? 
Therefore,  when  Jeremy  Stickles  again  placed  the  matter 
before  me,  commending  my  strength  and  courage,  and  skill  (to 
flatter  me  of  the  highest),  and  finished  by  saying  that  I  would 
be  worth  at  least  four  common  men  to  him,  I  cut  him  short 
as  follows :  — 

"  Master  Stickles,  once  for  all,  I  will  have  naught  to  do 
with  it.  The  reason  why  is  no  odds  of  thine,  nor  in  any  way 
disloyal.  Only  in  thy  plans  remember,  that  I  will  not  strike 
a  blow,  neither  give  any  counsel,  neither  guard  any  prisoners." 

"Not  strike  a  blow,"  cried  Jeremy,  "against  thy  father's 
murderers,  John !  " 

"Not  a  single  blow,  Jeremy;  unless  I  knew  the  man  who 
did  it,  and  he  gloried  in  his  sin.  It  was  a  foul  and  dastard 
deed,  yet  not  done  in  cold  blood;  neither  in  cold  blood  will  I 
take  the  Lord's  task  of  avenging  it." 

"Very  well,  John,"  answered  Master  Stickles,  "I  know 
thine  obstinacy.  When  thy  mind  is  made  up,  to  argue  with 
thee  is  pelting  a  rock  with  peppercorns.  But  thou  hast  some 
other  reason,  lad,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  over  and  above 
thy  merciful  nature  and  Cliristian  forgiveness.  Anyhow, 
come  and  see  it,  John.  There  will  be  good  sport,  I  reckon; 
especially  when  we  thrust  our  claws  into  the  ne.?t  of  the 
ravens.  Many  a  yeoman  will  find  his  daughter,  and  some  of 
the  Porlock  lads  their  sweethearts.  A  nice  young  maiden, 
now,  for  thee,  Jolni ;  if,  indeed,  any " 

"  No  more  of  this !  "  I  answered  very  sternly :  "  it  is  no  busi- 
ness of  thine,  Jeremy;  and  I  will  have  no  joking  upon  this 
matter." 

"Good,  my  lord:  so  be  it.  But  one  thing  I  tell  thee  in 
earnest.  We  will  have  thy  old  double-dealing  uncle,  Hucka- 
back of  Dulverton,    and  march  him  first   to   assault   Doone 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      273 

Castle,  sure  as  my  name  is  Stickles.  I  hear  that  he  hath 
often  vowed  to  storm  the  valley  himself,  if  only  he  could 
find  a  dozen  musketeers  to  back  him.  ISTow,  we  will  give 
him  chance  to  do  it,  and  prove  his  loyalty  to  the  King, 
which  lies  under  some  suspicion  of  late." 

With  regard  to  this,  I  had  nothing  to  say;  for  it  seemed  to 
me  very  reasonable  that  Uncle  Keuben  should  have  first 
chance  of  recovering  his  stolen  goods,  about  which  he  had 
made  such  a  sad  to-do,  and  promised  himself  such  vengeance. 
I  made  bold  however  to  ask  Master  Stickles,  at  what  time  he 
intended  to  carry  out  this  great  and  hazardous  attempt.  He 
answered  that  he  had  several  things  requiring  first  to  be  set 
in  order,  and  that  he  must  make  an  inland  journey,  even  as 
far  as  Tiverton,  and  perhaps  Crediton  and  Exeter,  to  jollect 
his  forces  and  ammunition  for  them.  For  he  meant  to  have 
some  of  the  yeomanry,  as  well  as  of  the  trained  bands,  so  that 
if  the  Doones  should  sally  forth,  as  perhaps  they  would,  on 
horseback,  cavalry  might  be  there  to  meet  them,  and  cut  them 
off  from  returning. 

All  this  made  me  very  uncomfortable,  for  many  and  many 
reasons,  the  chief  and  foremost  being  of  course  my  anxiety 
about  Lorna.  If  the  attack  succeeded,  what  was  to  become 
of  her?  Who  would  rescue  her  from  the  brutal  soldiers,  even 
supposing  that  she  escaped  from  the  hands  of  her  own  people, 
during  the  danger  and  ferocity?  And  in  smaller  ways,  I  was 
much  put  out;  for  instance,  who  would  ensure  our  corn-ricks, 
sheep,  and  cattle,  ay  and  even  our  fat  pigs,  now  coming  on  for 
bacon,  against  the  spreading  all  over  the  country  of  unlicensed 
marauders?  The  Doones  had  their  rights,  and  understood 
them,  and  took  them  according  to  prescription,  even  as  the 
parsons  had,  and  the  lords  of  manors,  and  the  King  himself, 
God  save  him!  But  how  were  these  low  soldiering  fellows 
(half-starved  at  home  very  likely,  and  only  too  glad  of  the  fat 
of  the  land,  and  ready,  according  to  our  proverb,  to  burn  the 
paper  they  fried  in),  who  were  they,  to  come  hectoring,  and 
heroing  over  us,  and  Heliogabalizing,  with  our  pretty  sisters 
to  cook  for  them,  and  be  chucked  under  chin  perhaps  after- 
wards? There  is  nothing  England  hates  so  much,  according 
to  my  sense  of  it,  as  that  felloAvs  taken  from  plough-tail,  cart- 
tail,  pot-liouses,  and  jjarish-stocks,  should  be  lioistcd  and 
foisted  upon  us  (after  a  few  montlis'  drilling,  and  their  lying 
shaped  into  truckling)  as  defenders  of  the  public  weal,  and 
heroes  of  the  universe. 

In  another  way,  I  was  vexed  moreover  —  for  after  all  we 

VOL.  I. — 18 


274  LOBNA   DOONE. 

must  consider  the  opinions  of  our  neighbors  —  namely,  that  I 
knew  quite  well  how  every  body  for  ten  miles  round  (for  my 
fame  must  have  been  at  least  that  wide,  after  all  my  wrest- 
ling), would  lift  up  hands  and  cry  out  thus  —  "  Black  shame 
on  John  Kidd,  if  he  lets  them  go  without  him !  " 

Putting  all  these  things  together,  as  well  as  many  others, 
which  your  own  wits  will  suggest  to  you,  it  is  impossible  but 
what  you  will  freely  acknowledge  that  this  unfortunate  John 
Ridd  was  now  in  a  cloven  stick.     There  was  Lorna,  my  love 

and  life,  bound  by  her  duty  to  that  old  vil nay,  I  mean 

to  her  good  grandfather,  who  could  now  do  little  mischief, 
and  therefore  deserved  all  praise  —  Lorna  bound,  at  any  rate, 
by  her  womanly  feelings,  if  not  by  sense  of  duty,  to  remain 
in  the  thick  of  danger,  with  nobody  to  protect  her,  but  every 
body  to  covet  her,  for  beauty  and  position.  Here  was  all  the 
country  roused  with  violent  excitement,  at  the  chance  of  snap- 
ping at  the  Doones;  and  not  only  getting  tit  for  tat;  but 
every  young  man  promising  his  sweetheart  a  gold  chain,  and 
his  mother  at  least  a  shilling.  And  here  was  our  own  mow- 
yard,  better  filled  than  we  could  remember,  and  perhaps  every 
sheaf  in  it  destined  to  be  burned  or  stolen,  before  we  had  fin- 
ished the  bread  we  had  baked. 

Among  all  these  troubles,  there  was,  however,  or  seemed  to 
be,  one  comfort.  Tom  Faggus  returned  from  London  very 
proudly  and  very  happily,  with  a  royal  pardon  in  black  and 
white,  which  every  body  admired  the  more,  because  no  one 
could  read  a  word  of  it.  The  Squire  himself  acknowledged 
cheerfully  that  he  could  sooner  take  fifty  purses  than  read  a 
single  line  of  it.  Some  people  indeed  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  the  parchment  was  made  from  a  sheep  Tom  had  stolen, 
and  that  was  why  it  prevaricated  so,  in  giving  him  a  charac- 
ter. But  I,  knowing  something,  by  this  time,  of  lawyers,  was 
able  to  contradict  them ;  affirming  that  the  wolf  had  more  than 
the  sheep  to  do  with  this  matter. 

For,  according  to  our  old  saying,  the  three  learned  profes- 
sions live  by  roguery  on  the  three  parts  of  a  man.  The 
doctor  mauls  our  bodies ;  the  parson  starves  our  souls ;  but  the 
lawyer  must  be  the  adroitest  knave,  for  he  has  to  ensnare  our 
minds.  Therefore  he  takes  a  careful  delight  in  covering  his 
traps  and  engines  with  a  spread  of  dead-leaf  words,  whereof 
himself  knows  little  more  than  half  the  way  to  spell  tliem. 

But  now  Tom  Faggus,  although  having  wit  to  gallop  away 
on  his  strawberry  mare,  with  the  speed  of  terror,  from  law- 
yers (having  paid  them  with  money  too  honest  to  stop),  yet 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      275 

fell  into  a  reckless  adventure,  ere  ever  he  came  home,  from 
which  any  lawyer  would  have  saved  him,  although  he  ought 
to  have  needed  none  beyond  common  thought  for  dear  Annie. 
Now  I  am,  and  ever  have  been,  so  vexed  about  this  story  that 
I  cannot  tell  it  pleasantly  (as  I  try  to  write  in  general)  in  my 
own  words  and  manner.  Therefore  I  will  let  John  Fry  (whom 
I  have  robbed  of  another  story,  to  which  he  was  more  entitled, 
and  whom  I  have  robbed  of  many  speeches  (which  he  thought 
very  excellent),  lest  I  should  grieve  any  one  with  his  lack  of 
education,  —  the  last  lack  he  ever  felt,  by-the-by),  now  with 
your  good  leave,  I  will  allow  poor  Jolin  to  tell  this  tale,  in 
his  own  words  and  style ;  which  he  has  a  perfect  right  to  do, 
having  been  the  first  to  tell  us.  For  Squire  Faggus  kept  it 
close;  not  trusting  even  Annie  with  it  (or  at  least  she  said  so) ; 
because  no  man  knows  much  of  his  sweetheart's  tongue,  until 
she  has  borne  him  a  child  or  two. 

Only  before  John  begins  his  story,  this  I  woiild  say,  in  duty 
to  him,  and  in  common  honesty,  —  that  I  dare  not  write  down 
some  few  of  his  Vv^ords,  because  they  are  not  convenient,  for 
dialect  or  other  causes;  and  that  I  cannot  find  any  way  of 
spelling  many  of  the  words  which  I  do  repeat,  so  that  people, 
not  born  on  Exmoor,  may  know  how  he  pronounced  them; 
even  if  they  could  bring  their  lips,  and  their  legs,  to  the  proper 
attitude.  And  in  this  I  speak  advisedly;  having  observed 
some  thousand  times,  that  the  manner  a  man  has  of  spreading 
his  legs,  and  bending  his  knees,  or  stiffening,  and  even  the  way 
he  will  set  his  heel,  make  all  the  difference  in  his  tone,  and 
time  of  casting  his  voice  aright,  and  power  of  coming  home  to 
you. 

We  always  liked  John's  stories,  not  for  any  wit  in  them; 
but  because  we  laughed  at  the  man,  ratlier  than  the  matter. 
The  way  he  held  liis  head  was  enough,  with  his  chin  llxed 
hard  like  a  certainty  (especially  during  his  biggest  lie)  not  a 
sign  of  a  smile  in  his  lips  or  nose,  but  a  power  of  not  laugh- 
ing; and  his  eyes  not  turning  to  any  body,  unless  somebody 
had  too  much  of  it  (as  young  girls  always  do)  and  went  over 
the  brink  of  laugliter.  Tliereupon  it  was  good  to  see  John 
Fry;  how  he  looked  gravely  first  at  the  laugher,  as  much  as 
to  ask,  "What  is  it  now?"  then  if  the  fool  went  laughing 
more,  as  he  or  she  was  sure  to  do  upon  that  dry  inquiry,  John 
would  look  again,  to  be  sure  of  it,  and  then  at  somebody  else 
to  h-arn  wliether  the  laugli  had  company;  then  if  he  got  an- 
other grin,  all  his  mirth  came  (mt  in  glory,  with  a  sudden  break; 
and  lie  wiped  liis  lips,  ;iinl  was  grave  again. 


276  LORNA   DOONE. 

Now  John,  being  too  much  encouraged  by  the  girls  (of  which 
I  couki  never  break  them),  came  into  the  house  that  December 
evening,  with  every  inch  of  him  full  of  a  tale.  Annie  saw  it, 
and  Lizzie  of  course ;  and  even  I,  in  the  gloom  of  great  evils, 
perceived  that  John  was  a  loaded  gun;  but  I  did  not  care  to 
explode  him.  Now  nothing  primed  him  so  hotly  as  this :  if 
you  wanted  to  hear  all  John  Fry  had  heard,  the  surest  of  all 
sure  ways  to  it  was,  to  pretend  not  to  care  for  a  word  of  it. 

"  I  wor  over  to  Exeford  in  the  marnin,"  John  began  from 
the  chimney-corner,  looking  straight  at  Annie ;  "  for  to  zee  a 
little  calve,  Jan,  as  us  cuddn't  get  thee  to  lave  houze  about. 
Meesus  have  got  a  quare  vancy  A^or  un,  from  wutt  her  have 
heer'd  of  the  brade.  Now  zit  quite,  wuU  e'  Miss  Luzzie,  or 
a  'wunt  goo  on  no  vurder.  Vaine  little  tayl  I'll  tull'  ee,  if 
so  be  thee  zits  quite.  Wull,  as  I  coom  down  the  hill,  I  zeed 
a  saight  of  volks  astapping  of  the  ro-udwai.  Arl  on  'em  wi' 
girt  goons,  or  two  men  out  of  dree  wi'  em.  Kackon  there  wor 
dree  score  on  'em,  tak  smarl  and  beg  togather  laike;  latt  aloun 
the  women  and  chillers;  zum  on  'em  wi'  matches  blowing, 
t'others  wi'  flint-lacks.  '  Wutt  be  up  now? '  I  says  to  Bill 
Blacksmith,  as  had  knowledge  of  me:  '  be  the  King  acoomin? 
If  her  be,  do  'ee  Avant  to  shutt'un?" 

"'  Thee  not  knaw! '  says  Bill  Blacksmith,  just  the  zame  as 
I  be  a  tuUin  of  it :  '  whai,  man,  us  expex  Tam  Faggus,  and 
zum  on  us  manes  to  shutt  'un.' 

'"Shutt  'un  wi'out  a  warrant!'  says  I:  'sure  'ee  knaws 
better  nor  thic,  Bill !  A  man  mayn't  shutt  to  another  man, 
wi'out  have  a  warrant,  Bill.  Warship  zed  so,  last  taime  I 
zeed  un,  and  nothing  to  the  contrairy." 

'"Haw,  haw!  Never  front  about  that,'  saith  Bill,  zame  as  I 
be  tullin  you :  '  us  has  warrants  and  warships  enow,  dree  or 
vour  on  'em.     And  more  nor  a  dizzen  Avarranties ;  fro'ut  I  know 

to  contrairy.     Shutt  'un,  us  manes ;  and  shutt  'un,  us  Avill ' 

Whai,  Miss  Annie,  good  Lord,  whuttiver  maks  'ee  stear  so?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  John,"  our  Annie  answered;  "only  the 
horrible  ferocity  of  that  miserable  blacksmith." 

"That  be  nayther  here  nor  there,"  John  continued,  with 
some  wrath  at  his  own  interruption:  "Blacksmith  knawed 
whutt  the  Squire  had  been;  and  A^eared  to  lose  his  own  custom, 
if  Squire  tuk  to  shooin'  again.  Shutt  any  man  I  would  my- 
zell  as  intervared  wi'  my  trade  laike.  '  Lucky  for  thee,'  said 
Bill  Blacksmith,  '  as  thee  bee'st  so  shart  and  fat,  Jan.  Dree 
on  us  wor  a  gooin'  to  shutt  'ee,  till  ns  zeed  how  fat  thee  waz, 
Jan.' 


A    TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A   FOOLISH  JOKE.      'Ill 

"  '  Lor  now,  Bill ! '  I  answered  'nn,  wi'  a  girt  cold  swat  upon 
me:  'sluitt  me,  Bill;  and  my  own  Avaife  niver  di-ame  of  it! '  " 

Here  John  Fry  looked  round  the  kitchen;  for  he  had  never 
said  anything  of  the  kind,  I  doubt;  but  now  made  it  part  of 
his  discourse,  from  thinking  that  Mistress  Fry  was  come,  as 
she  generally  did,  to  fetch  him. 

"  WuU  done  then,  Jan  Vry,"  said  the  woman,  who  had 
entered  quietly,  but  was  only  our  old  Molly.  "  Wutt  hand- 
some manners  thee  has  gat,  Jan,  to  spake  so  well  of  thy  waife 
laike ;  after  arl  the  laife  she  lades  thee !  " 

''  Putt  thee  pot  on  the  fire,  old  'ooman,  and  bile  thee  own 
bakkon,"  John  ansAvered  her,  very  sharply:  "nobody  no  raight 
to  meddle  wi'  a  man's  bad  'ooman  but  himzell.  Wull,  here 
was  all  these  here  men  awaitin',  zum  wi'  harses,  zum  wi'out; 
the  common  volk  wi'  long  girt  guns,  and  the  quarlity  wi'  girt 
broad-swords.  Who  wor  there?  Whay  latt  me  zee.  There 
wor  Squaire  Maunder,"  here  John  assumed  his  full  historical 
key,  "him  Avi'  the  pot  to  his  vittle-place ;  and  Sir  Richard 
Blewitt  shaking  OA^er  the  zaddle,  and  Squaire  Sandford  of 
Lee,  him  wi'  the  long  nose  and  one  eye,  and  Sir  Gronus  Batch- 
ildor  OA^er  to  Ninehead  Court,  and  ever  so  many  more  on  'em, 
fulling  up  hoAv  they  Avas  arl  gooin'  to  be  promoted,  for  kitch- 
ing  of  Tom  Faggus. 

" '  Hope  to  God, '  says  I  to  myzell,  '  poor  Tom  wun't  coom 
here  to-day :  arl  up  Avith  her,  if  'a  doeth :  and  Avho  be  there 
to  suckzade  'un? '  Mark  me  noAv,  all  these  charps  was  good 
to  shutt  'un,  as  her  coom  crass  the  Avatter ;  the  Avatter  be  waide 
enow  there  and  stony,  but  no  deeper  than  my  knee-place. 

"'  Thee  cas'n  goo  no  vurder, '  Bill  Blacksmith  saith  to  me: 
'naAvbody  'loAved  to  crass  the  vord,  until  such  time  as  Faggus 
coom;  plaise  God  we  may  mak  sure  of  'un.' 

" '  Amen,  zo  be  it, '  says  I ;  *  God  knowth  I  be  never  in  any 
hurry,  and  Avould  zooner  stop  nor  goo  on,  most  taimes.' 

"  Wi'  that  I  pulled  my  vittles  out,  and  zat  a  horse-barck, 
atin'  of  'em,  and  oncommon  good  they  was.  '  Won't  us  have 
'un  this  taime  just,'  saith  Tim  Potter,  as  keepeth  the  bull 
there;  'and  yet  I  be  zorry  for  'un.  But  a  man  must  kape  the 
law,  her  must;  zo  be  her  can  only  larn  it.  And  now  poor  Tom 
will  swing  as  high  as  the  tops  of  they  girt  hashes  there.' 

"'Just  thee  kitch  'un  virst, '  says  I;  'maisure  rope,  wi'  the 
body  to  maisure  by.' 

"'Hurrali!  here  be  another  uoav,'  saith  Bill  Blacksmith, 
grinning;  'another  coom  to  help  us.  What  a  grave  gentle- 
man !     A  warship  of  the  pace,  at  laste ! ' 


278  LOBNA  BOONE. 

"  For  a  gentleman,  on  a  cue-ball  horse,  was  coming  slowly 
down  the  hill  on  t'other  zide  of  waiter,  looking  at  us  in  a 
friendly  way,  and  with  a  long  papper  standing  forth  the  lin- 
ing of  his  coat  laike.  Horse  stapj)ed  to  drink  in  the  watter, 
and  gentleman  spak  to  'un  kindly,  and  then  they  coom  raight 
on  to  ussen,  and  the  gentleman's  face  wor  so  long  and  so  grave, 
us  veared  'a  wor  gooin'  to  prache  to  us. 

'"  Coort  o'  King's  Bench,'  saith  one  man;  'Checker  and 
Plays,'  saith  another;  '  Spishal  Commission,  I  doubt,'  saith 
Bill  Blacksmith;  'backed  by  the  Mayor  of  Taunton.' 

"  'Any  Justice  of  the  King's  Peace,  good  people,  to  be  found 
near  here? '  said  the  gentleman,  lifting  his  hat  to  us,  and  very 
gracious  in  his  manner. 

" '  Your  honor,'  saith  Bill,  with  his  hat  off  his  head;  '  there 
be  sax  or  zeven  warshijis  here;  arl  on  'em  very  wise  'uns. 
Squaire  Maunder  there  be  the  zinnyer.' 

"  So  the  gentleman  rode  up  to  Squire  Maunder,  and  raised 
his  cocked  hat  in  a  manner  that  took  the  Squire  out  of  counte- 
nance, for  he  could  not  do  the  like  of  it. 

" '  Sir,'  said  he,  'good  and  worshipful  sir,  I  am  here  to  claim 
your  good  advice  and  valor;  for  purposes  of  justice.  I  hold 
His  Majesty's  commission,  to  make  to  cease  a  notorious  rogue, 
whose  name  is  Thomas  Faggus.'  With  that  he  offered  his 
commission;  but  Squire  Maunder  told  the  truth,  that  he  could 
not  rade  even  words  in  print,  much  less  written  karakters.^ 
Then  the  other  magistrates  rode  up,  and  put  their  heads 
togetlier,  how  to  meet  the  London  gentleman  without  loss  of 
importance.  There  wor  one  of  'em  as  could  rade  purty  vair, 
and  her  made  out  King's  mark  upon  it :  and  he  bowed  upon 
his  horse  to  the  gentleman,  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart 
and  said,  '  Worshipful  sir,  we,  as  has  the  honor  of  His  Gra- 
cious Majesty's  commission,  are  entirely  at  your  service,  and 
crave  instructions  from  you.' 

"  Then  a  waving  of  hats  began,  and  a  bowing,  and  making 
of  legs  to  wan  anather,  sich  as  nayver  wor  zeed  afore ;  but  none 
of  'em  arl,  for  air  and  brading,  cud  coom  anaigh  the  gentle- 
man with  the  long  grave  face. 

1  Lest  John  Fry  seem  to  under-rate  the  erudition  of  Devonshire  magis- 
trates, I  venture  to  offer  copy  of  a  letter  from  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  to  his 
bookseller,  circa  1810  a.d.,  now  in  my  possession:  — 
"Sur. 

"plez  to  zen  me  the  aks  relattingto  A-gustus-paksy  ^ 

—  Ed.  of  L.  D. 

2  [Btupbasized  tbus  in  original.] 


A   TROUBLED   STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE.      279 

" '  Your  warships  have  posted  the  men  right  well, '  saith  he 
with  anather  bow  all  rouud;  'surelj'  that  big  rogue  will  have 
no  chance  left  among  so  many  valiant  musketeers.  Ha!  what 
see  I  there,  my  friend?  Rust  in  the  pan  of  your  gun!  That 
gun  would  never  go  off,  sure  as  I  am  the  King's  Commis- 
sioner. And  I  see  another  just  as  bad;  and  lo,  there  the 
third!  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  I  have  been  so  used  to  His 
INIajesty's  Ordnance-yards.  But  I  fear  that  bold  rogue  woiild 
ride  through  all  of  you,  and  laugh  at  your  worships'  beards, 
by  George.' 

"'But  what  shall  lis  do?'  Squire  Maunder  axed;  'I  vear 
there  be  no  oil  here.' 

'"Discharge  your  pieces,  gentlemen,  and  let  the  men  do  the 
same ;  or  at  least  let  us  try  to  discharge  them,  and  load  again 
with  fresh  powder.  It  is  the  fog  of  the  morning  hatli  spoiled 
the  priming.  That  rogue  is  not  in  sight  3-et:  but  God  knows 
we  must  not  be  asleep  with  him,  or  what  will  His  Majesty 
say  to  me,  if  we  let  him  slip  once  more?  ' 

'"  Excellent,  wondrous  well  said,  good  sir,'  Squire  Maunder 
answered  him;  '  I  never  should  have  thought  of  that  now. 
Bill  Blacksmith,  tell  all  the  men  to  be  ready  to  shoot  up  into 
the  air,  directly  1  give  the  word.  Now,  are  you  ready  there, 
Bill?' 

'"All  ready,  your  worship,'  saith  Bill,  saluting  like  a 
soldier. 

'"  Then,  one,  two,  dree,  and  shutt! '  cries  Squire  Maunder, 
standing  up  in  the  irons  of  his  stirrups. 

"  Thereupon  they  all  blazed  out,  and  the  noise  of  it  went  all 
round  the  hills;  with  a  girt  thick  cloud  arising,  and  all  the 
air  smelling  of  powder.  Before  the  cloud  was  gone  so  much 
as  ten  yards  on  the  wind,  the  gentleman  on  the  cue-ball  horse 
shuts  up  his  face  like  a  pair  of  nut-cracks,  as  wide  as  it  was 
long  before,  and  out  he  pulls  two  girt  pistols  longside  of  zad- 
dle,  and  clap'th  one  to  Squire  Maunder's  head,  and  t'other  to 
Sir  Richard  Blewitt's. 

'"  Hand  forth  your  money  and  all  your  warrants,'  he  saith 
like  a  clap  of  tliunder;  'gentlemen,  have  you  now  the  A\at  to 
apprehend  Tom  Faggus?' 

"  Squire  Maunder  swore  so  that  he  ought  to  be  fined;  but  lie 
pulled  out  his  purse  none  the  slower  for  that,  and  so  did  Sir 
Richard  Blewitt. 

"'  First  man  I  see  go  to  load  a  gun,  I'll  gi'e  'un  the  bullet 
to  do  it  witli,'  said  Tom;  for  you  see  it  was  him  and  no  other, 
looking  quietly  round  upon  all  of  them.     Then  he  robbed  all 


280  LORNA   BOONE. 

the  rest  of  tlieir  warships,  as  pleasant  as  might  be;  and  he 
saith,  '  Now  gentlemen,  do  yonr  duty :  serve  your  warrants 
afore  you  imprison  me : '  with  that  he  made  them  give  up  all 
the  warrants,  and  he  stuck  them  in  the  band  of  his  hat,  and 
then  he  made  a  bow  with  it. 

'"Good  morning  to  your  warships  now,  and  a  merry  Christ- 
mas all  of  you!  And  the  merrier  both  for  rich  and  poor, 
when  gentlemen  see  their  almsgiving.  Lest  you  deny  your- 
selves the  pleasure,  I  will  aid  your  warships.  And  to  save 
you  the  trouble  of  following  me,  when  your  guns  be  loaded, — 
this  is  my  strawberry  mare,  gentlemen,  only  with  a  little 
cream  on  her.  Gentlemen  all,  in  the  name  of  the  King,  I 
thank  you. ' 

"  All  this  while  he  was  casting  their  money  among  the  poor 
folk  by  the  handful;  and  then  he  spak  kaindly  to  the  red 
mare,  and  wor  over  tlie  back  of  the  hill  in  two  zeconds,  and 
the  best  part  of  two  maile  away,  I  reckon,  afore  ever  a  gun  wor 
loaded."  ^ 


CHAPTEE  XL. 

TWO    FOOLS    TOGETHER. 

That  story  of  John  Fry's,  instead  of  causing  any  amuse- 
ment, gave  us  great  disquietude ;  not  only  because  it  showed 
that  Tom  Faggus  could  not  resist  sudden  temptation  and  the 
delight  of  wildness,  but  also  that  we  greatly  feared  lest  the 
King's  pardon  might  be  annixlled,  and  all  his  kindness  can- 
celled, by  a  reckless  deed  of  that  sort.  It  was  true  (as  Annie 
insisted  continually,  even  with  tears,  to  wear  in  her  argu- 
ments) that  Tom  had  not  brought  away  any  thing,  except  the 
warrants,  which  were  of  no  use  at  all,  after  receipt  of  the  par- 
don; neither  had  he  used  any  violence,  except  just  to  frighten 
people ;  but  could  it  be  established,  even  towards  Christmas- 
time, that  Tom  had  a  right  to  give  alms,  right  and  left,  out  of 
other  people's  money? 

Dear  Annie  appeared  to  believe  that  it  could;  saying  that  if 
the  rich  continually  chose  to  forget  the  poor,  a  man  who 
forced  them  to  remember,  and  so  to  do  good  to  themselves  and 
to  others,  was  a  public  benefactor,  and  entitled  to  every  bless- 

1  The  truth  of  this  story  is  well  established  by  first-rate  tradition. 


TWO  FOOLS    TOGETHER.  281 

ing.  But  I  knew,  and  so  Lizzie  knew  —  John  Fry  being  now 
out  of  hearing  —  that  this  was  not  sound  argument.  For,  if 
it  came  to  that,  any  man  might  take  the  King  by  the  tliroat, 
and  make  him  cast  away  among  the  poor  the  money  which  lie 
wanted  sadly  for  Her  Grace  the  Duchess,  and  the  beautiful 
Countess,  of  this,  and  of  that.  Lizzie,  of  course,  knew  noth- 
ing about  His  Majesty's  diversions,  which  were  not  fit  for  a 
young  maid's  thoughts;  but  I  now  put  the  form  of  the  argu- 
ment as  it  occurred  to  me. 

Therefore  I  said,  once  for  all  (and  both  my  sisters  always 
listened  when  I  used  the  deep  voice  from  my  chest)  :  — 

''Tom  Faggus  hath  done  wrong  herein;  wrong  to  himself, 
and  to  our  Annie.  All  he  need  have  done  was  to  show  his 
pardon,  and  the  magistrates  would  have  rejoiced  with  him. 
He  might  have  led  a  most  godly  life,  and  have  been  respected 
by  every  body ;  and  knowing  how  brave  Tom  is,  I  thought 
that  he  would  have  done  as  much.  Now  if  I  were  in  love 
with  a  maid  "  —  I  put  it  thus  for  the  sake  of  poor  Lizzie  — 
"never  would  I  so  imperil  my  life,  and  her  fortune  in  life 
along  with  me,  for  the  sake  of  a  poor  diversion.  A  man's 
first  duty  is  to  the  women,  who  are  forced  to  hang  upon 
him " 

"Oh,  John,  not  that  horrible  word,"  cried  Annie,  to  my 
great  surprise,  and  serious  interruption :  "  oh  John,  any  word 
but  that !  "     And  she  burst  forth  crying  terribly. 

"What  word,  Lizzie?  What  does  the  wench  mean?"  I 
asked  in  the  saddest  vexation ;  seeing  no  good  to  ask  Annie  at 
all,  for  she  carried  on  most  dreadfully. 

"Don't  you  know,  you  stupid  lout?"  said  Lizzie,  complet- 
ing my  wonderment,  by  the  scorn  of  her  quicker  intelligence : 
"if  you  don't  know,  axe  about?" 

And  with  that,  I  was  forced  to  be  content;  for  Lizzie  took 
Annie  in  such  a  manner  (on  purpose  to  vex  me,  as  I  could  see) 
with  her  head  drooping  down,  and  her  hair  coming  over,  and 
tears  and  sobs  rising  and  falling,  to  boot,  without  either  order 
or  reason,  that  seeing  no  good  for  a  man  to  do  (since  neither 
of  them  was  Lorna),  I  even  went  out  into  the  courtyard,  and 
smoked  a  pipe,  and  wondered  what  on  earth  is  the  meaning  of 
women. 

Now  in  this  I  was  wrong  and  unreasonable  (as  all  women 
will  acknowledge) ;  but  sometimes  a  man  is  so  put  out,  by  the 
way  they  take  on  about  not! i  ing,  that  he  really  cannot  hel]) 
thinking,  for  at  least  a  minute,  tliat  women  are  a  mistake  for 
ever,  and  hence  are  for  ever  mistaken.     Nevertheless  I  could 


282  LORNA   DOONE. 

not  see  that  any  of  these  great  thoughts  and  ideas  applied  at 
all  to  my  Lorna ;  but  that  she  was  a  different  being;  not  woman 
enough  to  do  any  thing  bad,  yet  enough  of  a  woman  for  man 
to  adore. 

And  now  a  thing  came  to  pass  which  tested  my  adoration 
pretty  sharply,  inasmuch  as  I  would  far  liefer  have  faced 
Carver  Doone  and  his  father,  nay  even  the  roaring  lion  him- 
self, with  his  hoofs  and  flaming  nostrils,  tlian  have  met,  in 
cold  blood.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  the  founder  of  all  the  colony, 
and  the  fear  of  the  very  fiercest. 

But  that  I  was  forced  to  do  at  this  time,  and  in  the  manner 
following.  When  I  went  up  one  morning  to  look  for  my  seven 
rooks'  nests,  behold  there  were  but  six  to  be  seen;  for  the 
topmost  of  them  all  was  gone,  and  the  most  conspicuous.  I 
looked,  and  looked,  and  rubbed  my  eyes,  and  turned  to  try  them 
by  other  sights;  and  then  I  looked  again;  yes,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  about  it;  the  signal  was  made  for  me  to  come,  be- 
cause my  love  was  in  danger.  For  me  to  enter  the  valley  now, 
during  the  broad  daylight,  could  have  brought  no  comfort,  but 
only  harm  to  the  maiden,  and  certain  death  to  myself.  Yet 
it  was  more  than  I  could  do  to  keep  altogether  at  distance ; 
therefore  I  ran  to  the  nearest  place  where  I  could  remain 
unseen,  and  watched  the  glen  from  the  wooded  height,  for 
hours  and  hours,   impatiently. 

However  no  impatience  of  mine  made  any  difference  in  the 
scene  upon  which  I  was  gazing.  In  the  part  of  the  valley 
which  I  could  see  there  was  nothing  moving,  except  the  water, 
and  a  few  stolen  cows,  going  sadly  along,  as  if  knowing  that 
they  had  no  honest  right  there.  It  sank  very  heavily  into  my 
heart,  with  all  the  beds  of  dead  leaves  around  it,  and  there 
was  nothing  I  cared  to  do,  except  blow  on  my  fingers,  and 
long  for  more  wit. 

For  a  frost  was  beginning,  which  made  a  great  difference  to 
Lorna  and  to  myself,  I  trow ;  as  well  as  to  all  the  five  million 
people  who  dwell  in  this  island  of  England ;  such  a  frost  as 
never  I  saw  before,^  neither  hope  ever  to  see  again;  a  time 
when  it  was  impossible  to  milk  a  cow  for  icicles,  or  for  a  man 
to  shave  some  of  his  beard  (as  I  liked  to  do  for  Lorna's  sake, 
because  she  was  so  smooth)  without  blunting  his  razor  on  hard 

1  If  John  Eidd  lived  until  the  year  1740  (as  so  strong  a  man  was  bound 
to  do),  he  must  have  seen  almost  a  harder  frost ;  and  perhaps  it  put  an  end 
to  him  ;  for  then  he  would  be  some  fourscore  years  old.  But  tradition 
makes  him  "keep  yatt,"  as  he  says,  up  to  fivescore  years.  —  Ed.  L.  D. 


TWO  FOOLS   TOGETHER.  283 

gray  ice.  No  man  could  "  keep  yatt "  (as  we  say),  even  though, 
he  abandoned  his  work  altogether,  and  thumped  himself,  all 
on  the  chest  and  the  front,  till  his  frozen  hands  would  have 
been  bleeding  except  for  the  cold  that  kept  still  all  his  veins. 

However,  at  present  there  was  no  frost,  although  for  a  fort- 
night threatening;  and  I  was  too  young  to  know  the  meaning 
of  the  way  the  dead  leaves  hung,  and  the  worm-casts  prickling 
like  women's  combs,  and  tlie  leaden  tone  upon  every  thing, 
and  the  dead  weiglit  of  the  sky.  Will  Watcombe,  the  old 
man  at  Lynmouth,  who  had  been  half  over  the  world  almost, 
and  who  talked  so  much  of  the  Gulf -stream,  had  (as  I  after- 
wards called  to  mind)  foretold  a  very  bitter  winter  this  year. 
But  no  one  Avould  listen  to  him,  because  there  were  not  so 
many  hips  and  haws  as  usual;  whereas  we  have  all  learned 
from  our  grandfathers,  that  Providence  never  sends  very  hard 
winters,  without  having  furnished  a  large  supply  of  berries 
for  the  birds  to  feed  upon. 

It  was  lucky  for  me,  while  I  waited  here,  that  our  very  best 
sheep-dog,  old  Watch,  had  chosen  to  accompany  me  that  day. 
For  otherwise  I  must  have  had  no  dinner,  being  unpersuaded, 
even  by  that,  to  quit  my  survey  of  the  valley.  However,  by 
aid  of  poor  Watch,  I  contrived  to  ol)tain  a  supply  of  food ;  for 
I  sent  him  home  with  a  note  to  Annie  fastened  upon  his  chest; 
and  in  less  than  an  hour  back  he  came,  proud  enough  to  wag 
his  tail  off,  with  his  tongue  hanging  out  from  the  speed  of  his 
journey,  and  a  large  lump  of  bread  and  of  bacon  fastened  in 
a  napkin  around  his  neck.  I  had  not  told  my  sister,  of  course, 
what  was  toward;  for  why  should  I  make  her  anxious? 

When  it  grew  towards  dark,  I  was  just  beginning  to  prepare 
for  my  circuit  around  the  hills ;  but  suddenly  Watch  gave  a 
long  low  growl;  I  kept  myself  close  as  possible,  and  ordered 
the  dog  to  be  silent,  and  presently  saw  a  short  figure  approach- 
ing from  a  thickly -wooded  hollow  on  the  left  side  of  my  hiding- 
place.  It  was  the  same  figure  I  had  seen  once  before  in  the 
moonlight,  at  Plover's  Barrows ;  and  proved,  to  my  great  de- 
light, to  be  the  little  maid  Gwenny  Carfax.  She  started  a 
moment,  at  seeing  me,  but  more  with  surprise  than  fear;  and 
tlien  she  laid  both  her  hands  upon  mine,  as  if  she  had  known 
me  for  twenty  years. 

"Young  man,"  she  said,  "you  must  come  with  me.  I  was 
gwain'  all  the  way  to  fetch  thee.  Old  num  be  dying;  and  her 
can't  die,  or  at  least  her  won't,  without  lirst  considering  thee." 

"Considering  me!"  I  cried:  "what  can  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
want  with  considering  me?     Has  Mistress  Lorna  told  him?  " 


284  LOBNA   BOONE. 

"  All  concerning  thee,  and  thy  doings ;  when  she  knowed  old 
man  were  so  near  his  end.  That  vexed  he  was  about  thy  low 
blood,  a'  thought  her  would  come  to  life  again,  on  purpose 
for  to  bate  'ee.  But  after  all,  there  can't  be  scarcely  such  bad 
luck  as  that.  Now,  if  her  strook  thee,  tliou  must  take  it; 
there  be  no  denaying  of  'un.  Fire  I  have  seen  afore,  hot  and 
red,  and  raging;  but  I  never  seen  cold  fire  afore,  and  it 
maketh  me  burn  and  shiver." 

And  in  truth,  it  made  me  both  burn  and  shiver,  to  know 
that  I  must  either  go  straight  to  the  presence  of  Sir  Ensor 
Doone,  or  give  up  Lorna,  once  for  all,  and  riglitly  be  despised 
by  her.  For  the  first  time  of  my  life,  I  thought  that  she  had 
not  acted  fairly.  Why  not  leave  the  old  man  in  peace,  with- 
out vexing  him  about  my  affairs?  But  presently  I  saw  again 
that  in  this  matter  she  was  right ;  that  she  could  not  receive 
the  old  man's  blessing  (supposing  that  he  had  one  to  give, 
which  even  a  worse  man  might  believe)  while  she  deceived 
him  about  herself,  and  the  life  she  had  undertaken. 

Therefore,  with  great  misgiving  of  myself,  but  no  ill  thought 
of  my  darling,  I  sent  Watch  home,  and  followed  Gwenny; 
who  led  me  along  very  rapidly,  with  her  short  broad  form 
gliding  down  the  hollow,  from  which  she  had  first  appeared. 
Here  at  the  bottom,  she  entered  a  thicket  of  gray  ash  stubs 
and  black  holly,  with  rocks  around  it  gnarled  with  roots,  and 
hung  with  masks  of  ivy.  Soon  in  a  dark  and  lonely  corner, 
with  a  pixie  ring  before  it,  she  came  to  a  narrow  door,  very 
brown  and  solid,  looking  like  a  trunk  of  wood  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. This  she  opened,  without  a  key,  by  stooping  down  and 
pressing  it,  where  the  threshold  met  the  jamb ;  and  then  she 
ran  in  very  nimbly,  but  I  was  forced  to  be  bent  in  two,  and 
even  so  without  comfort.  The  passage  was  close  and  difficult, 
and  as  dark  as  any  black  pitch;  but  it  was  not  long  (be  it  as 
it  might),  and  in  that  there  was  some  comfort.  We  came  out 
soon  at  the  other  end,  and  were  at  the  top  of  Doone  valley. 
In  the  chilly  dusk  air  it  looked  most  untempting,  especially 
during  that  state  of  mind  under  which  I  was  laboring.  As 
we  crossed  towards  the  Captain's  house,  we  met  a  couple  of 
great  Doones  lounging  by  the  water-side.  Gwenny  said  some- 
thing to  them,  and  although  they  stared  very  hard  at  me,  they 
let  me  pass  without  hindrance.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that, 
when  the  little  maid  opened  Sir  Ensor's  door,  my  heart 
thumped,  quite  as  much  with  terror  as  with  hope  of  Lorna' s 
presence. 

But  in  a  moment  the  fear  was  gone,  for  Lorna  was  trembling 


TWO  FOOLS   TOGETHEB.  285 

in  my  arms,  and  my  courage  rose  to  comfort  her.  The  darling 
feared,  beyond  all  things  else,  lest  I  should  be  offended  with 
her,  for  what  she  had  said  to  her  grandfather,  and  for  drag- 
ging me  into  his  presence;  but  I  told  her  almost  a  falsehood 
(the  first,  and  the  last,  that  ever  I  did  tell  her),  to  wit,  that  I 
cared  not  that  much  —  and  showed  her  the  tip  of  my  thumb 
as  I  said  it  —  for  old  Sir  Ensor,  and  all  his  wrath,  so  long  as 
I  had  his  granddaughter's  love. 

Kow  I  tried  to  think  this  as  I  said  it,  so  as  to  save  it  from 
being  a  lie;  but  somehow  or  other  it  did  not  answer,  and  I 
was  vexed  with  myself  both  ways.  But  Lorna  took  me  by  the 
hand  as  bravely  as  she  could,  and  led  me  into  a  little  passage, 
where  I  could  hear  the  river  moaning  and  the  branches 
rustling. 

Here  I  passed  as  long  a  minute  as  fear  ever  cheated  time 
of,  saying  to  myself  continually  that  there  was  nothing  to  be 
frightened  at,  yet  growing  more,  and  more  afraid  by  reason  of 
so  reasoning.  At  last  my  Lorna  came  back  very  pale,  as  I  saw 
by  the  candle  she  carried,  and  whispered,  "  IS!  o w  be  patient, 
dearest.  Never  mind  what  he  says  to  you;  neither  attempt 
to  answer  him.  Look  at  him  gently  and  steadfastly,  and,  if 
you  can,  with  some  show  of  reverence;  but  above  all  things, 
no  compassion;  it  drives  him  almost  mad.  Now  come;  walk 
very  quietly." 

She  led  me  into  a  cold  dark  room,  rough  and  very  gloomy, 
although  with  tAvo  candles  burning.  I  took  little  heed  of  the 
things  in  it,  though  I  marked  that  the  window  was  open. 
That  which  I  heeded  was  an  old  man,  very  stern  and  comely, 
Avith  death  upon  his  countenance;  yet  not  lying  in  his  bed, 
but  set  upright  in  a  chair,  with  a  loose  red  cloak  thrown  over 
him.  Upon  this  his  white  hair  fell,  and  his  pale  fingers  lay 
in  a  ghastly  fashion,  without  a  sign  of  life  or  movement,  or  of 
the  power  that  kept  him  up;  all  rigid,  calm,  and  relentless. 
Only  in  his  great  black  eyes,  fixed  upon  me  solemnly,  all  the 
power  of  his  body  dwelt,  all  the  life  of  his  soul  was  burning. 

I  could  not  look  at  him  very  nicely,  being  af eared  of  the 
death  in  his  face,  and  most  afeared  to  show  it.  And  to  tell 
the  truth,  my  poor  blue  eyes  fell  a^vay  from  the  blackness  of 
his,  as  if  it  had  been  my  coffin-plate.  Therefore  I  made  a  low 
obeisance,  and  tried  not  to  shiver.  Only  I  groaned  that  Lorna 
thought  it  good  manners  to  leave  us  two  together. 

"Ah,"  said  tlie  old  man,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  (!ome  from 
a  cavern  of  skeletons;  "are  you  that  great  John  Kidd?  " 

"John  Kidd  is  my  name,  your  honor,"  was  all  that  I  could 
and  I  hope  your  woi'ship  is  better." 


286  LOBNA  BOONE. 

"  Child,  have  you  sense  enough  to  know  wnat  you  have  been 
doing?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  right  well,"  I  answered,  "that  I  have  set  mine 
eyes  far  above  my  rank." 

"Are  you  ignorant  that  Lorna  Doone  is  born  of  the  oldest 
families  remaining  in  North  Europe?" 

"I  Avas  ignorant  of  that,  your  worship;  yet  I  knew  of  her 
high  descent  from  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy." 

The  old  man's  eyes,  like  lire,  probed  me  whetlier  I  was  jest- 
ing; then  perceiving  how  grave  I  was,  and  thinking  that  I 
could  not  laugh  (as  many  people  suppose  of  me),  he  took  on 
himself  to  make  good  the  deficiency  with  a  very  bitter  smile. 

"And  know  you  of  your  own  low  descent,  from  the  Ridds, 
of  Oare?  " 

"Sir,"  I  answered,  being  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  this  style 
of  speech,  "  the  Ridds,  of  Oare,  have  been  honest  men,  twice 
as  long  as  the  Doones  have  been  rogues." 

"I  would  not  answer  for  that,  John,"  Sir  Ensor  replied, 
very  quietly,  when  I  expected  fury.  "  If  it  be  so,  thy  family 
is  the  very  oldest  in  Europe.  Now  hearken  to  me,  boy,  or 
clown,  or  honest  fool,  or  whatever  thou  art;  hearken  to  an  old 
man's  words,  who  has  not  many  hours  to  live.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  this  world  to  fear,  nothing  to  revere  or  trust,  nothing 
even  to  hope  for;  least  of  all,  is  there  aught  to  love." 

"I  hope  your  worship  is  not  quite  right,"  I  answered,  with 
great  misgivings;  "else  it  is  a  sad  mistake  for  any  body  to 
live,  sir." 

"Therefore,"  he  continued,  as  if  I  liad  never  spoken,  "though 
it  may  seem  hard  for  a  week  or  two,  like  the  loss  of  any  other 
toy,  I  deprive  you  of  nothing,  but  add  to  your  comfort,  and 
(if  there  be  such  a  thing)  to  your  happiness,  when  I  forbid 
you  ever  to  see  that  foolish  child  again.  All  marriage  is  a 
wretched  farce,  even  when  man  and  wife  belong  to  the  same 
rank  of  life,  have  temper  well  assorted,  similar  likes  and  dis- 
likes, and  alaout  the  same  pittance  of  mind.  But  when  they 
are  not  so  matched,  the  farce  would  become  a  long  dull  tragedy, 
if  any  thing  were  Avorth  lamenting.  There,  I  have  reasoned 
enough  with  you;  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  reasoning.  Though 
I  have  little  confidence  in  man's  honor,  I  have  some  reliance 
in  woman's  pride.  You  will  pledge  your  word  in  Lorna's 
presence,  never  to  see  or  to  seek  her  again;  never  even  to 
think  of  her  more.     Now  call  her,  for  I  am  weary." 

He  kept  his  great  eyes  fixed  upon  me  witli  their  icy  fire  (as 
if  he  scorned  both  life  and  death),  and  on  his  haughty  lips 


TWO  FOOLS   TOGETHER.  287 

some  slight  amusement  at  my  trouble;  and  then  he  raised  one 
hand  (as"  if  I  were  a  poor  dumb  creature),  and  pointed  to  the 
door.  Although  my  heart  rebelled  and  kindled  at  his  proud 
disdain,  I  could  not  disobey  him  freely;  but  made  a  low  salute, 
and  went  straightway  in  search  of  Lorna. 

I  found  my  love  (or  not  my  love;  according  as  now  she 
should  behave;  for  I  was  very  desperate,  being  put  upon  so 
sadly)  Lorna  Doone  was  crying  softly  at  a  little  window,  and 
listening  to  the  river's  grief.  I  laid  my  heavy  arm  around 
her,  not  with  any  air  of  claiming,  or  of  forcing  her  thoughts 
to  me,  but  only  just  to  comfort  her,  and  ask  what  she  was 
thinking  of.  To  my  arm  she  made  no  answer,  neither  to  my 
seeking  eyes;  but  to  my  heart,  once  for  all,  she  spoke  with 
her  own  upon  it.  Not  a  word,  nor  sound  between  us;  not 
even  a  kiss  was  interchanged;  but  man,  or  maid,  who  has  ever 
loved  hath  learned  our  understanding. 

Therefore  it  came  to  pass,  that  we  saw  fit  to  enter  Sir 
Ensor's  room,  in  the  following  manner.  Lorna,  with  her  right 
hand  swallowed  entirely  by  the  palm  of  mine,  and  her  waist 
retired  from  view  by  means  of  my  left  arm.  All  one  side  of 
her  hair  came  down,  in  a  way  to  be  remembered,  upon  the  left 
and  fairest  part  of  my  favorite  otter-skin  waistcoat;  and  her 
head  as  well  would  have  lain  there  doubtless,  but  for  the 
danger  of  walking  so.  I,  for  my  part,  was  too  far  gone  to 
lag  behind  in  the  matter:  but  carried  my  love  bravely,  fear- 
ing neither  death  nor  hell,  while  she  abode  beside  me. 

Old  Sir  Ensor  looked  much  astonished.  Eor  forty  years  he 
had  been  obeyed  and  feared  by  all  around  him;  and  he  knew 
that  I  had  feared  him  vastly,  before  I  got  hold  of  Lorna.  And 
indeed  I  was  still  afraid  of  him;  only  for  loving  Lorna  so, 
and  having  to  protect  her. 

Then  I  made  him  a  1)0W,  to  the  very  best  of  all  I  had  learned 
both  at  Tiverton  and  in  London;  after  tliat  I  waited  for  him 
to  begin,  as  became  his  age  and  rank  in  life. 

"  Ye  two  fools !  "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  depth  of  contempt 
which  no  words  may  utter:  "ye  two  fools!  " 

"May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered  softly;  "may  be 
we  are  not  such  fools  as  we  look.  P>ut  though  we  be,  we  are 
well  content,  so  long  as  we  may  be  two  fools  together." 

"Why,  John,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  spark,  as  of  smiling 
in  Ills  eyes;  "tliou  art  not  altogether  the  clumsy  yokel,  and 
th(;  clod,  I  took  thee;  for." 

"Oh  no,  grandfatlier;  oli  dear  grandfather,"  cried  T;orna, 
with  such  zeal  and  flashing,   that  her   hands  went   forward; 


288  LOENA   BOONE. 

"  uobody  knows  what  John  Eidd  is,  because  he  is  so  modest. 
I  mean,  nobody  except  me,  dear."  And  here  she  turned  to 
me  again,  and  rose  upon  tiptoe,  and  kissed  me. 

"I  have  seen  a  little  of  the  world,"  said  the  old  man,  while 
I  was  half  ashamed,  although  so  proud  of  Lorna;  '"but  this  is 
beyond  all  I  have  seen,  and  nearly  all  I  have  heard  of.  It  is 
more  lit  for  southern  climates,  than  for  the  fogs  of  Exmoor." 

"It  is  fit  for  all  the  Avorld,  your  worship;  wuth  your  honor's 
good  leave,  and  v/ill,"  I  answered  in  humility,  being  still 
ashamed  of  it ;  "  when  it  happens  so  to  people,  there  is  noth- 
ing that  can  stop  it,  sir." 

Kow  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  leaning  back  upon  his  brown 
chair-rail,  which  was  built  like  a  triangle,  as  in  old  farm- 
houses (from  one  of  which  it  had  come,  no  doubt,  free  from  ex- 
pense or  gratitude)  ;  and  as  I  spoke  he  coughed  a  little;  and  he 
sighed  a  good  deal  more;  and  perhaps  his  dying  heart  desired 
to  open  time  again,  with  such  a  lift  of  warmth  and  hope  as 
he  descried  in  our  eyes,  and  arms.  I  could  not  understand  him 
then;  any  more  than  a  baby  playing  with  his  grandfather's 
spectacles;  nevertheless  I  wondered  whether,  at  his  time  of 
life,  or  rather  on  the  brink  of  death,  he  was  thinking  of  his 
youth  and  prime. 

"Fools  you  are;  be  fools  for  ever,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone  at 
last;  while  we  feared  to  break  his  thoughts,  but  let  each  other 
know  our  own,  with  little  ways  of  pressure :  "  it  is  the  best 
thing  I  can  wish  you;  boy  and  girl,  be  boy  and  girl,  until  you 
have  grandchildren." 

Partly  in  bitterness  he  spoke,  and  partly  in  pure  weariness, 
and  then  he  turned  so  as  not  to  see  us ;  and  his  white  hair  fell, 
like  a  shroud,  around  him. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

COLD    COMFOKT. 

All  things  being  full  of  flaw,  all  things  being  full  of  holes, 
the  strength  of  all  things  is  in  shortness.  If  Sir  Ensor 
Boone  had  dwelled  for  half-an-hour  upon  himself,  and  an 
hour  perhaps  upon  Lorna  and  me,  we  must  both  have  wearied 
of  him,  and  required  change  of  air.  But  now  I  longed  to  see 
and  know  a  great  deal  more  about  him,  and  hoped  that  he 
might  not  go  to  heaven,  for  at  least  a  week  or  more.     How- 


"FOOLS     YOU     ARE:      BE     FOOLS      HUkKVhK."  —  Vol.     I.    p.     ^88 


COLD   COMFORT.  28 ^ 

ever  he  was  too  good  for  this  workl  (as  we  say  of  all  people 
who  leave  it) ;  and  I  verily  believe  his  heart  was  not  a  bad  one, 
after  all.  Evil  he  had  done,  no  doubt,  as  evil  had  been  done 
to  him;  yet  how  many  have  done  evil,  while  receiving  only 
good!  Be  that  as  it  may;  nor  further  vexing  of  a  question 
(settled  for  ever  without  our  votes),  let  us  own  that  he  was, 
at  least,  a  brave  and  courteous  gentleman. 

And  his  loss  aroused  great  lamentation,  not  among  the 
Doones  alone,  and  the  women  they  had  carried  off,  but  also 
of  the  general  public,  and  many  even  of  the  magistrates,  for 
several  miles  round  Exmoor.  And  this,  not  only  from  fear 
lest  one  more  wicked  might  succeed  him  (as  appeared  indeed 
too  probable),  but  from  true  admiration  of  his  strong  will,  and 
sympathy  Avith  his  misfortunes. 

I  will  not  deceive  any  one,  by  saying  that  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
gave  (in  so  many  words)  his  consent  to  my  resolve  about 
Lorna.  This  he  never  did,  except  by  his  speech  last  written 
down;  from  which,  as  he  mentioned  grandchildren,  a  lawyer 
perhaps  might  have  argued  it.  Not  but  what  he  may  have 
meant  to  bestow  on  us  his  blessing;  only  that  he  died  next 
day,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  do  it. 

He  called  indeed  for  his  box  of  snuff,  which  was  a  very 
high  thing  to  take ;  and  which  he  never  took  without  being  in 
very  good  humor,  at  least  for  him.  And  though  it  would  not 
go  up  his  nostrils,  through  the  failure  of  his  breath,  he  was 
pleased  to  have  it  there,  and  not  to  think  of  dying. 

"Will  your  honor  have  it  wiped?"  I  asked  him  very  softly, 
for  the  brown  appearance  of  it  spoiled  (to  my  idea)  his  white 
mostachio;  but  he  seemed  to  shake  his  head,  and  I  thought  it 
kept  his  spirits  up.  I  had  never  before  seen  any  one  do,  what 
all  of  us  have  to  do  some  day;  and  it  greatly  kept  my  spirits 
doAvn,  altliough  it  did  not  so  very  much  frighten  me. 

For  it  takes  a  man  but  a  little  while,  his  instinct  being  of 
deatli  perhaps,  at  least  as  much  as  of  life  (which  accounts' for 
his  slaying  his  fellow  men  so,  and  every  other  creature),  it 
does  not  take  a  man  very  long  to  enter  into  another  man's 
death,  and  bring  his  own  mood  to  suit  it.  He  knows  that  his 
own  is  sure  to  come;  and  nature  is  fond  of  the  practice. 
Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  I,  after  easing  my  mother's  fears, 
and  seeing  a  little  to  business,  returned  (as  if  drawn  by  a  polar 
needle)  to  the  death-bed  of  Sir  Ensor. 

There  was  some  little   confusion,    people  wanting   to    get 
away,  and  people  trying  to  come  in,  from  downright  curiosity 
(of  all  things  the  most  hateful),  and  others  making  great  to-do, 
VOL.  I.  —  rj 


290  LORNA  DOONE. 

and  talking  of  their  own  time  to  come,  telling  their  own  age, 
and  so  on.  But  every  one  seemed  to  think,  or  feel,  that  I  had 
a  right  to  be  there;  because  the  women  took  that  view  of  it. 
As  for  Carver  and  Counsellor,  they  were  minding  tlieir  own 
affairs,  so  as  to  win  the  succession;  and  never  found  it  in  their 
business  (at  least  so  long  as  I  was  there)  to  come  near  the 
dying  man. 

He,  for  his  part,  never  asked  for  any  one  to  come  near  him, 
not  even  a  priest,  nor  a  monk  or  friar ;  but  seemed  to  be  going 
his  own  way,  peaceful,  and  well  contented.  Only  the  chief 
of  the  women  said,  that  from  his  face  she  believed  and  knew, 
that  he  liked  to  have  me  at  one  side  of  his  bed,  and  Lorna 
upon  the  other.  An  liour  or  tAvo  ere  the  old  man  died,  when 
only  we  two  were  with  him,  he  looked  at  us  both  very  dimly 
and  softly,  as  if  he  wished  to  do  something  for  us,  but  had  left 
it  now  too  late.  Lorna  hoped  that  he  wanted  to  bless  us ;  but 
he  only  frowned  at  that,  and  let  his  hand  drop  downward,  and 
crooked  one  knotted  finger. 

"He  wants  something  out  of  the  bed,  dear,"  Lorna  whis- 
pered to  me;  "see  what  it  is,  upon  your  side,  there." 

I  followed  the  bent  of  his  poor  shrunken  hand,  and  sought 
among  the  pilings ;  and  there  I  felt  something  hard  and  sharp, 
and  drew  it  forth  and  gave  it  to  him.  It  flashed,  like  the 
spray  of  a  fountain  upon  us,  in  the  dark  winter  of  the  room. 
He  could  not  take  it  in  his  hand,  but  let  it  hang,  as  daisies 
do ;  only  making  Lorna  see  that  he  meant  her  to  have  it. 

"  Why,  it  is  my  glass  necklace ! "  Lorna  cried,  in  great  sur- 
prise; "my  necklace  he  always  promised  me;  and  from  which 
you  have  got  the  ring,  John.  But  grandfather  kept  it,  be- 
cause the  children  wanted  to  pull  it  from  my  neck.  May  I 
have  it  now,  dear  grandfather?     Not  unless  you  wish,  dear." 

Darling  Lorna  wept  again,  because  the  old  man  could  not 
tell  her  (except  by  one  very  feeble  nod)  that  she  was  doing 
what  he  wished.  Then  she  gave  to  me  the  trinket,  for  the 
sake  of  safety ;  and  I  stowed  it  in  my  breast.  He  seemed  to 
me  to  follow  this,  and  to  be  well  content  with  it. 

Before  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  buried,  the  greatest  frost  of  the 
century  had  set  in,  with  its  iron  hand,  and  step  of  stone,  on 
every  thing.  How  it  came  is  not  my  business,  nor  can  I  ex- 
plain it ;  because  I  never  have  watched  the  skies ;  as  people 
now  begin  to  do,  when  the  ground  is  not  to  their  liking. 
Though  of  all  this  I  know  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing  I 
may  say  (because  I  ought  to  know  something) ;  I  can  hear 
what  people  tell  me ;  and  I  can  see  before  my  eyes. 


COLD    COMFORT.  291 

The  strong  men  broke  three  good  pickaxes,  ere  they  got 
through  the  hard  brown  sod,  checked  with  flakes  of  frosty 
white,  where  oki  Sir  Ensor  was  to  lie  upon  his  back,  awaiting 
the  darkness  of  the  Judgment-day.  It  was  in  the  little  chapel- 
yard;  I  will  not  tell  the  name  of  it;  because  we  are  now  such 
Protestants,  that  I  might  do  it  an  evil  turn;  only  it  was  the 
little  place  where  Lorna's  Aunt  Sabina  lay. 

Here  was  I,  remaining  long,  with  a  little  curiosity;  because 
some  people  told  me  plainly,  that  I  must  be  damned  for  ever 
by  a  Papist  funeral ;  and  here  came  Lorna,  scarcely  breathing 
through  the  thick  of  stuff  around  her,  yet  with  all  her  little 
breath  steaming  on  the  air,  like  frost. 

I  stood  apart  from  the  ceremony,  in  which  of  course  I  was 
not  entitled,  either  by  birth  or  religion,  to  bear  any  portion; 
and  indeed  it  would  have  been  wiser  in  me  to  have  kept  away 
altogether;  for  now  there  was  no  one  to  protect  me  among 
those  wild  and  lawless  men;  and  both  Carver,  and  the  Coun- 
sellor, had  vowed  a  fearful  vengeance  on  me,  as  I  heard  from 
Gwenny.  They  had  not  dared  to  meddle  with  me,  while  the 
chief  lay  dying;  nor  was  it  in  their  policy,  for  a  short  time 
after  that,  to  endanger  their  succession,  by  an  open  breach 
with  Lorna,  whose  tender  age  and  beauty  held  so  many  of  the 
youths  in  thrall. 

The  ancient  outlaw's  funeral  was  a  grand  and  moving  sight; 
more  perhaps  from  the  sense  of  contrast,  than  from  that  of 
fitness.  To  see  those  dark  and  mighty  men,  inured  to  all  of 
sin  and  crime,  reckless  both  of  man  and  God,  yet  now  with 
heads  devoutly  bent,  clasped  hands,  and  downcast  eyes,  fol- 
lowing the  long  black  coffin  of  their  common  ancestor,  to  the 
place  where  they  must  join  him,  when  their  sum  of  ill  was 
done;  and  to  see  the  feeble  priest  chanting,  over  the  dead 
form,  words  the  living  would  have  laughed  at,  sprinkling  with 
his  little  broom  drops  that  could  not  purify;  while  the  chil- 
dren, robed  in  white,  swung  their  smoking  censers  slowly  over 
the  cold  and  twilight  grave :  and  after  seeing  all,  to  ask,  with 
a  shudder  unexpressed,  "Is  this  the  end  that  God  intended 
for  a  man  so  proud  and  strong?  " 

Not  a  tear  was  shed  upon  him,  except  from  the  sweetest  of 
all  sweet  eyes ;  not  a  sigh  pursued  him  home.  Except  in  hot 
anger,  his  life  had  been  very  cold,  and  bitter,  and  distant;  and 
now  a  week  had  exhausted  all  the  sorrow  of  those  around  him, 
a  grief  flowing  less  from  affection  than  fear.  Aged  men  will 
show  las  tombstone;  mothers  haste  witli  thcdr  infants  by  it; 
eliildren  shrink  from  the  name  upon  it;  until  in  time  his  his- 


292  LORNA  BOONE. 

tory  shall  lapse,  and  be  forgotten  by  all,  except  the  great 
Judge  and  God. 

After  all  was  over,  I  strode  across  the  moors  very  sadly; 
trying  to  keep  the  cold  away,  by  virtue  of  quick  movement. 
Not  a  flake  of  snow  had  fallen  yet;  all  the  earth  was  caked 
and  hard,  with  a  dry  brown  crust  upon  it;  all  the  sky  was 
banked  with  darkness,  hard,  austere,  and  frowning.  The  fog 
of  the  last  three  weeks  was  gone,  neither  did  any  rime  remain ; 
but  all  things  had  a  look  of  sameness,  and  a  kind  of  furzy 
color.  It  was  freezing  hard  and  sharp,  with  a  piercing  wind 
to  back  it ;  and  I  had  observed  that  the  holy  water  froze  upon 
Sir  Ensor's  coffin. 

One  thing  struck  me  with  some  surprise,  as  I  made  off  for 
our  fireside  (with  a  strong  determination  to  heave  an  ash-tree 
up  the  chimney-place),  and  that  was  how  the  birds  were  going, 
rather  than  flying  as  they  used  to  fly.  All  the  birds  were  set 
in  one  direction,  steadily  journeying  westward,  not  with  any 
heat  of  speed,  neither  flying  far  at  once ;  but  all  (as  if  on  busi- 
ness bound),  partly  running,  partly  flying,  partly  fluttering 
along;  silently,  and  without  a  voice,  neither  pricking  head 
nor  tail.  This  movement  of  the  birds  went  on,  even  for  a 
week  or  more ;  every  kind  of  thrushes  passed  us,  every  kind 
of  wild  fowl,  even  plovers  went  away,  and  crows,  and  snipes, 
and  woodcocks.  And  before  half  the  frost  was  over,  all  we 
had  in  the  snowy  ditches  were  hares  so  tame  that  we  could 
pat  them;  partridges  that  came  to  hand,  with  a  dry  noise  in 
their  crops;  heath-poults,  making  cups  of  snow;  and  a  few 
poor  hopping  redwings,  flipping  in  and  out  the  hedge,  hav- 
ing lost  the  power  to  fly.  And  all  the  time,  their  great  black 
eyes,  set  with  gold  around  them,  seemed  to  look  at  any  man, 
for  mercy  and  for  comfort. 

Annie  took  a  many  of  them,  all  that  she  could  find  herself, 
and  all  the  boys  would  bring  her ;  and  she  made  a  great  hutch 
near  the  fire,  in  the  back-kitchen  chimney-place.  Here,  in 
spite  of  our  old  Betty  (who  sadly  wanted  to  roast  them),  Annie 
kept  some  fifty  birds,  with  bread  and  milk,  and  raw  chopped 
meat,  and  all  the  seed  she  could  think  of,  and  lumps  of  rotten 
apples,  placed,  to  tempt  them,  in  the  corners.  Some  got  on, 
and  some  died  off;  and  Annie  cried  for  all  that  died,  and 
buried  them  under  the  woodrick ;  but,  I  do  assure  you,  it  was 
a  pretty  thing  to  see,  when  she  went  to  them  in  the  morning. 
There  was  not  a  bird  but  knew  her  well,  after  one  day  of  com- 
forting; and  some  would  come  to  her  hand,  and  sit,  and  shut 
one  eye,  and  look  at  her.     Then  she  used  to  stroke  their  heads, 


COLD   COMFORT.  293 

and  feel  their  breasts,  and  talk  to  them;  and  not  a  bird  of 
them  all  was  there,  but  liked  to  have  it  done  to  him.  And 
I  do  believe  they  would  eat  from  her  hand  things  unnatural  to 
them,  lest  she  should  be  grieved  and  hurt,  by  not  knowing 
what  to  do  for  them.  One  of  them  was  a  noble  bird,  such  as 
I  never  had  seen  before,  of  very  fine  bright  plumage,  and 
larger  than  a  missel-thrush.  He  was  the  hardest  of  all  to 
please;  and  yet  he  tried  to  do  his  best.  I  have  heard  since 
then,  from  a  man  who  knows  all  about  birds,  and  beasts,  and 
hshes,  that  he  must  have  been  a  Norwegian  bird,  called  in  this 
country  a  "Roller,"  who  never  comes  to  England  but  in  the 
most  tremendous  winters. 

Another  little  bird  there  was,  whom  I  longed  to  welcome 
home,  and  protect  from  enemies,  a  little  bird  no  native  to  us, 
but  than  any  native  dearer.  But  lo,  in  the  very  night  which 
followed  old  Sir  Ensor's  funeral,  such  a  storm  of  snow  began, 
as  never  have  I  heard  nor  read  of,  neither  could  have  dreamed 
it.  At  what  time  of  night  it  first  began  is  more  than  I  can 
say,  at  least  from  my  own  knowledge,  for  we  all  went  to  bed 
soon  after  supper,  being  cold,  and  not  inclined  to  talk.  At 
that  time  the  wind  was  moaning  sadly,  and  the  sky  as  dark 
as  a  wood,  and  the  straw  in  the  yard  swirling  round  and  round, 
and  the  cows  huddling  into  the  great  cowhouse,  with  their 
chins  upon  one  another.  But  we,  being  blinder  than  they,  I 
suppose,  and  not  having  had  a  great  snow  for  years,  made  no 
preparation  against  the  storm,  except  that  the  lambing  ewes 
were  in  shelter. 

It  struck  me,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  that  we  were  acting  foolishly; 
for  an  ancient  shepherd  had  dropped  in,  and  taken  supper  with 
us,  and  foretold  a  heavy  fall,  and  great  disaster  to  live  stock. 
He  said  that  he  had  known  a  frost  beginning,  just  as  this  had 
done,  Avith  a  black  east  wind,  after  days  of  raw  cold  fog,  and 
then  on  the  third  night  of  the  frost,  at  this  very  time  of  year 
(to  wit  on  the  15th  of  December)  such  a  snow  set  in  as  killed 
half  of  the  sheep,  and  many  even  of  the  red  deer,  and  the 
forest  ponies.  It  was  three-score  years  agone,^  he  said;  and 
cause  he  had  to  remember  it,  inasmuch  as  two  of  his  toes  had 
been  lost  by  frost  nip,  while  he  dug  out  his  sheep,  on  tlie 
other  side  of  the  Dunkery.  Hereupon  mother  nodded  at  him, 
having  heard  from  her  fatlier  about  it,  and  how  three  men 
had  been  frozen  to  death,  and  how  badly  their  stockings  came 
off  from  them. 

1  The  frost  of  1625. 


294  LORNA   BOONE. 

K-emembering  how  the  old  man  looked,  and  his  manner  of 
listening  to  the  wind,  and  shaking  his  head  very  ominously 
(when  Annie  gave  him  a  glass  of  schnapps),  I  grew  quite  uneasy 
in  my  bed,  as  the  room  got  colder  and  colder;  and  I  made  up 
my  mind,  if  it  only  pleased  God  not  to  send  the  snow  till  tlie 
morning,  that  every  sheep,  and  horse,  and  cow,  ay  and  even 
the  jackass,  should  be  brought  in  snug,  and  with  plenty  to 
eat,  and  fodder  enough  to  roast  them. 

Alas,  what  use  of  man's  resolves,  when  they  come  a  day  too 
late:  even  if  they  may  avail  a  little,  when  they  are  most 
punctual ! 

In  the  bitter  morning,  I  arose,  to  follow  out  my  purpose, 
knowing  the  time  from  the  force  of  habit,  although  the  room 
was  so  dark  and  gray.  An  odd  white  light  was  on  the  rafters, 
such  as  I  never  had  seen  before ;  while  all  the  length  of  the 
room  was  grisly,  like  the  heart  of  a  mouldy  oat-rick.  I  went 
to  the  window,  at  once,  of  course;  and  at  first  I  could  not 
understand  what  was  doing  outside  of  it.  It  faced  due  east 
(as  I  may  have  said),  with  the  walnut-tree  partly  sheltering 
it;  and  generally  I  could  see  the  yard,  and  the  woodrick,  and 
even  the  church  beyond. 

But  now,  half  the  lattice  was  quite  blocked  up,  as  if  plas- 
tered with  gray  lime;  and  little  fringes,  like  ferns,  came 
through,  where  the  joining  of  the  lead  was ;  and  in  the  only 
undarkened  part,  countless  dots  came  swarming,  clustering, 
beating  with  a  soft  low  sound,  then  gliding  down  in  a  slip- 
pery manner,  not  as  drops  of  rain  do,  but  each  distinct  from 
his  neighbor.  Inside  the  iron  frame  (which  fitted,  not  to  say 
too  comfortably,  and  went  along  the  stone-work),  at  least  a 
peck  of  snow  had  entered,  following  its  own  bend  and  fancy ; 
light  as  any  cobweb. 

With  some  trouble,  and  great  care,  lest  the  ancient  frame 
should  yield,  I  spread  the  lattice  open ,  and  saw  at  once  that 
not  a  moment  must  be  lost,  to  save  our  stock.  All  the  earth 
was  flat  with  snow,  all  the  air  was  thick  with  snow;  more 
than  this  no  man  could  see,  for  all  the  world  was  snowing. 

I  shut  the  window,  and  dressed  in  haste ;  and  when  I  entered 
the  kitchen,  not  even  Betty,  the  earliest  of  all  early  birds, 
was  there.  I  raked  the  ashes  together  a  little,  just  to  see  a 
spark  of  warmth ;  and  then  set  forth  to  find  John  Fry,  Jem 
Slocombe,  and  Bill  Dadds.  But  this  was  easier  thought  than 
done;  for  when  I  opened  the  court-yard  door,  I  was  taken  up 
to  my  knees  at  once,  and  the  power  of  the  drifting  cloud  pre- 
vented sight  of  any  thing.     However,  I  found  my  v/ay  to  the 


COLB   COMFORT.  295 

woodrick,  and  there  got  hold  of  a  fine  ash-stake,  cut  by  my 
self  not  long  ago.     With  this  I  ploughed  along  pretty  well, 
and  thundered  so  hard  at  John  Fry's  door,  that  he  thought  it 
was  the  Doones  at  least,  and  cocked  his  blunderbuss  out  of 
the  window. 

John  was  very  loth  to  come  down,  when  he  saw  the  mean- 
ing of  it;  for  he  valued  his  life  more  than  any  thing  else, 
though  he  tried  to  make  out  that  his  wife  was  to  blame.  But 
I  settled  his  doubts  by  telling  him,  that  I  would  have  him  on 
my  shoulder  naked,  unless  he  came  in  five  minutes ;  not  that 
he  could  do  much  good,  biit  because  the  other  men  would  be 
sure  to  skulk,  if  he  set  them  the  example.  With  spades,  and 
shovels,  and  pitchforks,  and  a  round  of  roping,  we  four  set 
forth  to  dig  out  the  sheep ;  and  the  poor  things  knew  that  it 
was  high  time. 


END   OF    VOL.    I. 


Elcctrotypcd  by  J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston. 


LORNA    DOOI^E 


A  Romance  of  Exmoor 


By  K   D.   BLACKMORE 

AUTHOR  OP  "CRADOCK  NOWELL,"   "ALICE  LORRAINE,"  "CLARA 
VAUGHAN,"  ETC. 


M^  IJ.01  yav  IHKotto^,  fii}  fioi  XP^"'^''"'  TaXavTa 
Eiij  fxev,  fJir)&e  npocrOf  6e€Lv  avefxtov 

AAA    vnb  ra  Trerpo  rafi*  ^ao/iai,  ayKo.^  e)(uiv  tu, 
ivvvoiia  fiaA'  iaopiav  tolv  SikcAolv  is  oiAa. 


IN  TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL,   II. 


NEW   YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWE  LL   &   CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


'jorvniGHT,  1893, 
iSY   r.  Y.   CUOWELL   &  CO,, 


CONTENTS. 


Vol.  n. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XLII.  The  Great  Winter 1 

XLIII.  Not  too  soon 10 

XLIV.  Brought  Home  at  last 18 

XLV.  A  Change  long  needed 26 

XL VI.  Squire  Faggus  biakes  some  Lucky   Hits 34 

XLVII.  Jeremy  in  Danger 43 

■XLVnL  Every  Man  must  defend  himself 53 

-^LIX.  Maiden  Sentinels  are  Best 62 

L.  A  Merry  Meeting  a  Sad  One 70 

LL  A  Visit  from  the  Counsellor 82 

LIL  The  Way  to  make  the  Cream  rise 90 

LIIL  Jeremy  finds  out  Something 98 

LIV.  Mutual    Discomfiture 107 

LV.  Getting  into  Chancery 118 

LVL  John  becomes  too  Popular 126 

LVII.  LORNA    KNOWS    HER    NURSE 137 

LVIII.  Master   Huckaback's  Secret 151 

LIX.  LoRNA  gone   away 160 

LX.  Annie  Luckier  than  John 172 

LXI.  Therefore   he  seeks  Comfort 179 

LXn.  The  King  must  not  be   prayed  for 185 

LXIII.  John  is  worsted  by   the   Women 195 

LXIV.  Slaughter  in  the   Marshes 203 

LXV.  Falling   among  Lambs 211 

LXVL  Suitable   Devotion 219 

LX Vn.  LoRNA  still  is  Lorna 228 

iii 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

LXVIII.  John  is  John  no  longer 236 

LXIX.  Not  to  be  put  up  with 246 

LXX.  Compelled  to  volunteer 264 

LXXI.  A  Long  Account  settled 262 

LXXII.  The  Counsellor,  and  the  Carter 268 

LXXIII.  How  TO  get  out  of  Chancery 276 

LXXIV.  Blood  upon  the  Altar 281 

LXXV.  Give  away  the  Grandeur 287 


LORNA    DOONE: 


A  ROMANCE  OF  EXMOOR. 


oJOicx^ 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  GREAT    WINTER. 

It  must  have  snowed  most  wonderfully  to  have  made  that 
depth  of  covering  in  about  eight  hours.  For  one  of  Master 
Stickles'  men,  who  had  been  out  all  the  night,  said  that  no 
snow  began  to  fall  until  nearly  midnight.  And  here  it  was, 
blocking  up  the  doors,  stopping  the  ways,  and  the  water- 
courses, and  making  it  very  much  worse  to  walk  than  in  a 
saw-pit  newly  used.  However,  we  trudged  along  in  a  line;  I 
first,  and  the  other  men  after  me;  trying  to  keep  my  track, 
but  finding  legs  and  strength  not  up  to  it.  Most  of  all,  John 
Fry  was  groaning;  certain  that  his  time  was  come,  and  send- 
ing messages  to  his  wife,  and  blessings  to  his  children.  For 
all  this  time  it  was  snowing  harder  than  it  ever  had  snowed 
before,  so  far  as  a  man  might  guess  at  it;  and  the  leaden  depth 
of  the  sky  came  down,  like  a  mine  turned  upside  down  on  us. 
Not  that  the  flakes  were  so  very  large;  for  I  have  seen  much 
larger  flakes  in  a  shower  of  March,  while  sowing  peas;  but 
that  there  was  no  room  between  them,  neither  any  relaxing, 
nor  any  change  of  direction. 

Watcli,  like  a  good  and  faithful  dog,  followed  us  very 
cheerfully,  leaping  out  of  the  depth,  which  took  him  over  his 
back  and  ears  already,  even  in  the  level  places;  while  in  the 
drifts  he  might  have  sunk  to  any  distance  out  of  sight,  and 
never  found  his  way  up  again.  However,  we  helped  him 
now  and  tlien,  especially  through  the  gaps  and  gateways;  and 
so  after  a  deal  of  floundfriiig,  souu'  laughter  and  a  little  swear- 
ing, we  came  all  safe  to  the  lower  meadow,  where  most  of  our 
flock  was  hurdled. 

VOL.  u.  —  1  1 


2  LORNA  BOONE. 

But  behold,  there  was  no  flock  at  all !  None,  I  mean,  to  be 
seen  any  where;  only  at  one  corner  of  the  field,  by  the  east- 
ern end,  where  the  snow  drove  in,  a  great  Avhite  billow,  as 
liigh  as  a  barn  and  as  broad  as  a  house.  This  great  drift  was 
rolling  and  curling  beneath  the  violent  blast,  tufting  and 
combing  with  rustling  swirls,  and  carved  (as  in  patterns  of 
cornice)  where  the  grooving  chisel  of  the  wind  swept  round. 
Ever  and  again,  the  tempest  snatched  little  whiffs  from  the 
channelled  edges,  twirled  them  round,  and  made  them  dance 
over  the  chine  of  the  monster  pile,  then  let  them  lie  like 
herring-bones,  or  the  seams  of  sand  where  the  tide  had  been. 
And  all  the  while  from  the  smothering  sky,  more  and  more 
fiercely  at  every  blast,  came  the  inciting  pitiless  arrows, 
winged  with  murky  white,  and  pointed  with  the  barbs  of  frost. 

But  although,  for  people  who  had  no  sheep,  the  sight  was  a 
very  fine  one  (so  far  at  least  as  the  weather  permitted  any 
sight  at  all) ;  yet  for  us,  with  our  flock  beneath  it,  this  great 
mount  had  but  little  charm.  Watch  began  to  scratch  at  once, 
and  to  howl  along  the  sides  of  it;  he  knew  that  his  charge  was 
buried  there,  and  his  business  taken  from  him.  But  we  four 
men  set  to  in  earnest,  digging  with  all  our  might  and  main, 
shovelling  away  at  the  great  white  pile,  and  fetching  it  into 
the  meadow.  Each  man  made  for  himself  a  cave,  scooping 
at  the  soft  cold  flux,  which  slid  upon  him  at  every  stroke,  and 
throwing  it  out  behind  him,  in  piles  of  castled  fancy.  At 
last  we  drove  our  tunnels  in  (for  we  worked  indeed  for  the 
lives  of  us),  and  all  converging  towards  the  middle,  held  our 
tools  and  listened. 

The  other  men  heard  nothing  at  all ;  or  declared  that  they 
heard  nothing,  being  anxious  now  to  abandon  the  matter,  be- 
cause of  the  chill  in  their  feet  and  knees.  But  I  said,  "  Go,  if 
you  choose,  all  of  you.  I  will  work  it  out  by  myself,  you 
pie-crusts : "  and  upon  that  they  gripped  their  shovels,  being 
more  or  less  of  Englishmen;  and  the  least  drop  of  English 
blood  is  worth  the  best  of  any  other,  when  it  comes  to  lasting 
out. 

But  before  we  began  again,  I  laid  my  head  well  into  the 
chamber;  and  there  I  heard  a  faint  " ma-a-ah,"  coming  through 
some  ells  of  snow,  like  a  plaintive  buried  hope,  or  a  last 
appeal.  I  shouted  aloud  to  cheer  him  up,  for  I  knew  what 
sheep  it  was,  to  wit  the  most  valiant  of  all  the  wethers,  who 
had  met  me  when  I  came  home  from  London,  and  been  so  glad 
to  see  me.  And  then  we  all  fell  to  again;  and  very  soon  we 
hauled  him  out.     Watch  took  charge  of  him  at  once,  with  an 


THE  GREAT  WINTER.  3 

air  of  the  noblest  patronage,  lying  on  his  frozen  fleece,  and 
licking  all  his  face  and  feet,  to  restore  his  warnith  to  him. 
Then  fighting  Tom  jumped  up  at  once,  and  made  a  little  butt 
at  Watch,  as  if  nothing  had  ever  ailed  him,  and  tlien  set  off 
to  a  shallow  place,  and  looked  for  something  to  nibble  at. 

Further  in,  and  close  under  the  bank,  where  they  had 
huddled  themselves  for  warmth,  we  found  all  the  rest  of  the 
poor  sheep  packed  as  closely  as  if  they  were  in  a  great  pie. 
It  was  strange  to  observe  how  their  vapor,  and  breath,  and  the 
moisture  exuding  from  their  wool  had  scooped,  as  it  were,  a 
coved  room  for  them,  lined  with  a  ribbing  of  deep  yellow 
snow.  Also  the  churned  snow  beneath  their  feet  was  as  yel- 
low as  gamboge.  Two  or  three  of  the  weaklier  hoggets  were 
dead,  from  want  of  air,  and  from  pressure;  but  more  than 
three-score  were  as  lively  as  ever;  though  cramped  and  s^'iff 
for  a  little  while. 

"  However  shall  us  get  'em  home?  "  John  Fry  asked  in  great 
dismay,  when  we  had  cleared  about  a  dozen  of  them;  which 
we  were  forced  to  do  very  carefully,  so  as  not  to  fetch  the  roof 
down.  "  No  manner  of  maning  to  draive  'un,  drough  all  they 
girt  driftnesses." 

"You  see  to  this  place,  John,"  I  replied,  as  we  leaned  on 
our  shovels  a  moment,  and  the  sheep  came  rubbing  round  us : 
"let  no  more  of  them  out  for  the  present;  they  are  better 
where  they  be.     Watch,  here  bo}',  keep  them !  " 

Watch  came,  with  his  little  scut  of  a  tail  cocked  as  sharp  as 
duty;  and  I  set  him  at  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  great  snow 
autre.  All  the  sheep  sidled  away,  and  got  closer,  that  the 
other  sheep  might  be  bitten  first,  as  the  foolish  things  imag- 
ine :  whereas  no  good  sheep-dog  even  so  much  as  lips  a  sheep 
to  turn  it. 

Then  of  the  outer  sheep  (all  now  snowed  and  frizzled  like  a 
lawyer's  wig)  I  took  the  two  finest  and  heaviest,  and  with  one 
beneath  my  right  arm,  and  the  other  beneath  my  left,  I  went 
straight  home  to  the  upper  sheppey,  and  set  tliem  insidt',  and 
fastened  them.  Sixty  and  six  I  took  home  in  that  way,  two 
at  a  time  on  each  journey;  and  the  work  grew  harder  and 
harder  each  time,  as  the  drifts  of  the  snow  were  deepening. 
No  other  man  should  meddle  with  them :  I  was  resolved  to  try 
my  strengtli  against  the  strength  of  the  elements;  and  try  it  I 
did,  ay  and  proved  it.  A  certain  fierce  delight  burned  in  me, 
as  the  struggle  grew  harder;  Init  ratlier  would  I  die  tlian  yield; 
and  at  last  I  finislicd  it.  People  talk  of  it  to  this  day:  but 
none  can  tell  what  the  labor  was,  who  have  not  felt  that  snow 
and  wind. 


4  LORNA  DOONE. 

Of  the  sheep  upon  the  mountain,  and  the  sheep  upon  the 
western  farm,  and  the  cattle  on  the  upper  burrows,  scarcely 
one  in  ten  was  saved;  do  what  we  would  for  them.  And  this 
was  not  through  any  neglect  (now  that  our  wits  were  sharp- 
ened), but  from  the  pure  impossibility  of  finding  them  at  all. 
That  great  snow  never  ceased  a  moment  for  three  days  and 
nights ;  and  then  when  all  the  earth  was  filled,  and  the  top- 
most hedges  were  unseen,  and  the  trees  broke  down  with  weight 
(wherever  the  wind  had  not  lightened  them),  a  brilliant  sun 
broke  forth  and  showed  the  loss  of  all  our  customs. 

All  our  house  was  quite  snowed  up,  except  where  we  had 
purged  a  way,  by  dint  of  constant  shovellings.  The  kitchen 
was  as  dark  and  darker  than  the  cider-cellar,  and  long  lines 
of  furrowed  scollops  ran  even  up  to  the  chimney-stacks. 
Several  windows  fell  right  inwards,  through  the  weight  of  the 
snow  against  them;  and  the  few  that  stood  bulged  in,  and 
bent  like  an  old  bruised  lanthorn.  We  were  obliged  to  cook 
by  candle-light;  we  were  forced  to  read  by  candle-light;  as 
for  baking,  we  could  not  do  it,  because  the  oven  was  too  chill ; 
and  a  load  of  faggots  only  brought  a  little  wet  down  the  sides 
of  it. 

For  when  the  sun  burst  forth  at  last  upon  that  world  of 
white,  what  he  brought  was  neither  warmth,  nor  cheer,  nor 
hope  of  softening ;  only  a  clearer  shaft  of  cold,  from  the  violet 
depths  of  sky.  Long-drawn  alleys  of  white  haze  seemed  to 
lead  towards  him,  yet  such  as  he  could  not  come  down,  with 
any  warmth  remaining.  Broad  white  curtains  of  the  frost- 
fog  looped  around  the  lower  sky,  on  the  verge  of  hill  and 
valley,  and  above  the  laden  trees.  Only  round  the  sun  him- 
self, and  the  spot  of  heaven  he  claimed,  clustered  a  bright 
purple-blue,  clear,  and  calm,  and  deep. 

That  night,  such  a  frost  ensued  as  we  had  never  dreamed  of, 
neither  read  in  ancient  books,  or  histories  of  Frobisher.  The 
kettle  by  the  fire  froze,  and  the  crock  upon  the  hearth-cheeks ; 
many  men  were  killed,  and  cattle  rigid  in  their  head-ropes. 
Then  I  heard  that  fearful  sound,  which  never  I  had  heard 
before,  neither  since  have  heard  (except  during  that  same 
winter),  the  sharp  yet  solemn  sound  of  trees,  burst  open  by 
the  frost-blow.  Our  great  walnut  lost  three  branches,  and 
has  been  dying  ever  since ;  though  growing  meanwhile,  as  the 
soul  does.  And  the  ancient  oak  at  the  cross  was  rent,  and 
many  score  of  ash  trees.  But  why  should  I  tell  all  this?  the 
people  who  have  not  seen  it  (as  I  have)  will  only  make  faces, 
and  disbelieve;  till  such  another  frost  comes;  which  perhaps 
may  never  be. 


THE  GREAT   WINTER.  5 

This  terrible  weather  kept  Tom  Faggus  from  coming  near 
our  house  for  weeks;  at  which  indeed  I  was  not  vexed  a 
quarter  so  much  as  Annie  was ;  for  I  had  never  half  approved 
of  him,  as  a  husband  for  my  sister;  in  spite  of  his  purchase 
from  Squire  Bassett,  and  the  grant  of  the  Koyal  pardon.  It 
may  be  however  that  Annie  took  the  same  view  of  my  love 
for  Lorna,  and  could  not  augur  well  of  it;  but  if  so,  she  held 
her  peace,  though  I  was  not  so  sparing.  For  many  things 
contributed  to  make  me  less  good-humored  now  than  my  real 
nature  was ;  and  the  very  least  of  all  these  things  would  have 
been  enough  to  make  some  people  cross,  and  rude,  and  frac- 
tious. I  mean  the  red  and  painful  chapping  of  my  face  and 
hands,  from  working  in  the  snow  all  day,  and  lying  in  tlie  frost 
all  night.  For  being  of  a  fair  complexion,  and  a  ruddy  nature, 
and  pretty  plump  withal,  and  fed  on  plenty  of  hot  victuals, 
and  always  forced  by  my  mother  to  sit  nearer  the  lire  than  I 
wished,  it  Avas  wonderful  to  see  how  the  cold  ran  revel  on  my 
cheeks  and  knuckles.  And  I  feared  that  Lorna  (if  it  should 
ever  please  God  to  stop  the  snowing)  might  take  this  for  a 
proof  of  low  and  rustic  blood  and  breeding. 

And  this  I  say  was  the  smallest  thing ;  for  it  Avas  far  more 
serious  that  we  were  losing  half  our  stock,  do  all  we  would  to 
shelter  them.  Even  the  horses  in  the  stables  (mustered  alto- 
gether, for  the  sake  of  breath  and  steaming)  had  long  icicles 
from  their  muzzles,  almost  every  morning.  But  of  all  things 
the  very  gravest,  to  my  apprehension,  was  the  impossibility 
of  hearing,  or  having  any  token,  of  or  from  my  loved  one. 
Not  that  those  three  days  alone  of  snow  (tremendous  as  it  was) 
could  liave  blocked  the  country  so ;  but  that  the  sky  had  never 
ceased,  for  more  than  two  days  at  a  time,  for  full  three  weeks 
thereafter,  to  pour  fresh  piles  of  fleecy  mantle ;  n(Mther  had 
the  wind  relaxed  a  single  day  from  shaking  them.  As  a  rule, 
it  snowed  all  day,  cleared  up  at  night,  and  froze  intensely, 
witli  the  stars  as  bright  as  jewels,  earth  spread  out  in  lustrous 
twilight,  and  the  sounds  in  the  air  as  sharp  and  crackling  as 
artillery;  then  in  the  morning  snow  again,  before  the  sun 
could  come  to  help. 

It  mattered  not  what  way  the  wind  was.  Often  and  often 
the  vanes  went  round,  and  we  hoped  for  change  of  weatlun- : 
the  only  change  was  that  it  seemed  (if  possible)  to  grow  colder. 
Indeed,  after  a  week  or  so,  the  wind  would  regularly  box  tlie 
compass  (as  the  sailors  call  it)  in  the  course  of  every  day,  fol- 
lowing where  the  sun  should  be,  as  if  to  make  a  mock  of  him. 
And  this  of  course  immensely  added  to  the  peril  of  the  drifts; 


6  LORNA   DOONE. 

because  they  shifted  every  day;   and  no  skill  or  care  might 
learn  them. 

I  believe  it  was  on  Epiphany  morning,  or  somewhere  about 
that  period,  when  Lizzie  ran  into  the  kitchen  to  me,  where  I 
was  thawing  my  goose-grease,  with  the  dogs  among  the  ashes 
—  the  live  dogs,  I  mean,  not  the  iron  ones,  for  them  we  had 
given  up  long  ago, —  and  having  caught  me,  by  way  of  wonder 
(for  generally  I  was  out  shovelling,  long  before  my  "  young 
lady  "  had  her  nightcap  off),  she  positively  kissed  me,  for  the 
sake  of  warming  her  lips  perhaps,  or  because  she  had  some- 
thing proud  to  say. 

''You  great  fool,  John,"  said  my  lady,  as  Annie  and  I  used 
to  call  her,  on  account  of  her  airs  and  graces;  "what  a  pity 
you  never  read,  John !  " 

"Much  use,  I  should  think,  in  reading!  "  I  answered,  though 
pleased  with  her  condescension;  "read,  I  suppose,  with  roof 
coming  in,  and  only  this  chimney  left  sticking  out  of  the 
snow ! " 

"The  very  time  to  read,  John,"  said  Lizzie,  looking  grander; 
"our  worst  troubles  are  the  need,  whence  knowledge  can  de- 
liver us." 

"Amen,"  I  cried  out;  "are  you  parson  or  clerk?  Which- 
ever you  are,  good  morning." 

Thereupon  I  was  bent  on  my  usual  round  (a  very  small  one 
nowadays),  but  Eliza  took  me  with  both  hands,  and  I  stopped 
of  course;  for  I  could  not  bear  to  shake  the  child,  even  in 
play,  for  a  moment,  because  her  back  was  tender.  Then  she 
looked  up  at  me  with  her  beautiful  eyes,  so  large,  unhealthy, 
and  delicate,  and  strangely  shadowing  outward,  as  if  to  spread 
their  meaning;  and  she  said, — 

"Now,  John,  this  is  no  time  to  joke.  I  was  almost  frozen 
in  bed  last  night;  and  Annie  like  an  icicle.  Feel  how  cold 
my  hands  are.  Now,  will  you  listen  to  what  I  have  read  about 
climates  ten  times  worse  than  this ;  and  where  none  but  clever 
men  can  live?" 

"  Lnpossible  for  me  to  listen  uoav.  I  have  hundreds  of  things 
to  see  to:  but  I  will  listen  after  breakfast  to  your  foreign 
climates,  child.     Now  attend  to  mother's  hot  coffee." 

She  looked  a  little  disappointed;  but  she  knew  what  I  had 
to  do:  and  after  all  she  was  not  so  utterly  unreasonable; 
although  she  did  read  books.  And  when  I  had  done  my 
morning's  work,  I  listened  to  her  patiently;  and  it  was  out 
of  my  power  to  think  that  all  she  said  was  foolish. 

For  I  knew  common  sense  pretty  well,  by  this  time,  whether 


THE  GREAT   JVINTEB.  7 

it  happened  to  be  my  own,  or  any  other  person's,  if  clearly 
laid  before  me.  Ami  Lizzie  had  a  particular  way  of  setting 
forth  very  clearly  whatever  she  wished  to  express  and  enforce. 
But  the  queerest  part  of  it  all  was  this,  that  if  she  could  but 
have  dreamed  for  a  moment  what  would  be  the  first  applica- 
tion made  by  me  of  her  lesson,  she  would  rather  have  bitten 
her  tongue  off  than  help  me  to  my  purpose. 

She  told  me  that  in  the  "  Arctic  Regions, "  as  they  call  some 
places  a  long  way  north,  where  the  Great  Bear  lies  all  across 
the  heavens,  and  no  sun  is  up,  for  whole  months  at  a  time, 
and  yet  where  people  will  go  exploring,  out  of  pure  contradic- 
tion, and  for  the  sake  of  novelty,  and  love  of  being  frozen  — 
that  here  they  always  had  such  winters  as  we  were  having 
now.  It  never  ceased  to  freeze,  she  said ;  and  it  never  ceased 
to  snoAv;  except  when  it  was  too  cold;  and  then,  all  the  air 
was  choked  with  glittering  spikes;  and  a  man's  skin  might 
come  off  of  him,  before  he  could  ask  the  reason.  Nevertheless 
the  people  there  (although  the  snow  was  fifty  feet  deep,  and 
all  their  breath  fell  behind  them  frozen,  like  a  log  of  wood 
dropped  from  their  shoulders),  yet  they  managed  to  get  along, 
and  make  the  time  of  the  year  to  each  other,  by  a  little  clever- 
ness. For  seeing  how  the  snow  was  spread,  lightly  over  every 
thing,  covering  up  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  the  foreskin  of 
the  sea,  they  contrived  a  way  to  crown  it,  and  to  glide  like  a 
flake  along.  Through  the  sparkle  of  the  whiteness,  and  the 
wreaths  of  windy  tossings,  and  the  nps  and  downs  of  cold,  any 
man  might  get  along  with  a  boat  on  either  foot,  to  prevent  his 
sinking. 

She  told  me  how  these  boats  were  made ;  very  strong  and 
very  light,  of  ribs  with  skin  across  them;  five  feet  long,  and 
one  foot  wide ;  and  turned  up  at  each  end,  oven  as  a  canoe  is. 
But  she  did  not  tell  me,  nor  did  I  give  it  a  moment's  thought 
myself,  how  hard  it  was  to  walk  upon  them,  without  early 
practice.  Then  she  told  me  another  thing  equally  useful  to 
me;  although  I  v/ould  not  let  her  see  how  much  I  thought 
about  it.  And  this  concerned  the  xise  of  sledges,  and  their 
power  of  gliding,  and  the  lightness  of  their  following;  all  of 
wliich  I  could  see  at  once,  thfough  knowledge  of  our  OAvn 
farm-sleds;  which  we  employ  in  lieu  of  wheels,  used  in  flatter 
districts.  When  I  had  heard  all  this  from  her,  a  mere  chit  of 
a  girl  as  slie  was,  unfit  to  make  a  snowball  even,  or  to  fry 
snow-pancakes,  I  looked  down  on  her  with  amazement,  and 
began  to  wish  a  littl(^  that  I  lia<l  given  more  time  to  books. 

Hut  God  shapes  all  our  fitness,  and  gives  each  man  his  mean- 


8  LORNA  BOONE. 

ing,  even  as  he  guides  the  wavering  lines  of  snow  descending. 
Our  Eliza  was  meant  for  books ;  our  dear  Annie  for  loving 
and  cooking;  I,  John  Ridd,  for  sheep,  and  wrestling,  and  the 
thought  of  Lorna;  and  mother  to  love  all  three  of  us,  and  to 
make  the  best  of  her  children.  And  now,  if  I  must  tell  the 
truth,  as  at  every  page  I  try  to  do  (thovigh  God  knows  it  is 
hard  enough),  I  had  felt  through  all  this  weather,  though  my 
life  was  Lorna's,  something  of  a  satisfaction  in  so  doing  duty 
to  my  kindest  and  best  of  mothers,  and  to  none  but  her.  For 
(if  you  come  to  think  of  it)  a  man's  young  love  is  very  pleas- 
ant, very  sweet,  and  tickling;  and  takes  him  through  the  core 
of  heart ;  without  his  knowing  how  or  why.  Then  he  dwells 
upon  it  sideways,  without  people  looking,  and  builds  up  all 
sorts  of  fancies,  growing  hot  with  working  so  at  his  own  imag- 
inings. So  his  love  is  a  crystal  Goddess,  set  upon  an  obelisk; 
and  whoever  will  not  bow  the  knee  (yet  without  glancing  at 
her),  the  lover  makes  it  a  sacred  rite  to  either  kick  or  to  stick 
him.  I  am  not  speaking  of  me  and  Lorna,  but  of  common  people. 

Then  (if  you  come  to  think  again)  lo  —  or  I  will  not  say  lo! 
for  no  one  can  behold  it  —  only  feel,  or  but  remember,  what  a 
real  mother  is.  Ever  loving,  ever  soft,  ever  turning  sin  to 
goodness,  vices  into  virtues;  blind  to  all  nine-tenths  of  wrong; 
through  a  telescope  beholding  (though  herself  so  nigh  to  them) 
faintest  decimal  of  promise,  even  in  her  vilest  child.  Ready 
to  thank  God  again,  as  when  her  babe  was  born  to  her ;  leaping 
(as  at  kingdom-come)  at  a  wandering  syllable  of  Gospel  for 
her  lost  one. 

All  this  our  mother  was  to  us,  and  even  more  than  all  of 
this ;  and  hence  I  felt  a  pride  and  joy  in  doing  my  sacred  duty 
towards  her,  now  that  the  weather  compelled  me.  And  she 
was  as  grateful,  and  delighted,  as  if  she  had  no  more  claim 
upon  me  than  a  stranger's  sheep  might  have.  Yet  from  time 
to  time,  I  groaned  within  myself  and  by  myself,  at  thinking 
of  my  sad  debarment  from  the  sight  of  Lorna,  and  of  all  that 
might  have  happened  to  her,  now  she  had  no  protection. 

Therefore  I  fell  to  at  once,  upon  that  hint  from  Lizzie,  and 
being  used  to  thatching-work,  and  the  making  of  traps,  and  so 
on,  before  very  long  I  built  myself  a  pair  of  strong  and  light 
snow-shoes,  framed  with  ash  and  ribbed  of  withy,  with  half- 
tanned  calfskin  stretched  across,  and  an  inner  sole  to  support 
my  feet.  At  first  I  could  not  walk  at  all,  but  floundered  about 
most  piteously,  catching  one  shoe  in  the  other,  and  both  of 
them  in  the  snow-drifts,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  maid- 
ens, who  were  come  to  look  at  me.     But  after  a  while  I  grew 


THE  GREAT   WINTER.  9 

more  expert,  discovering  what  my  errors  were,  and  altering 
the  inclination  of  the  shoes  themselves,  according  to  a  plan 
which  Lizzie  found  in  a  book  of  old  adventures.  And  this 
made  such  a  difference,  that  I  crossed  the  farm-yard  and  came 
back  again  (though  turning  was  the  worst  thing  of  all)  with- 
out so  much  as  falling  once,  or  getting  my  staff  entangled. 

But  oh  the  aching  of  my  ankles,  when  I  went  to  bed  that 
night;  I  was  forced  to  help  myself  upstairs  with  a  couple  of 
mopsticks !  and  I  rubbed  the  joints  with  neatsf oot  oil,  which 
comforted  them  greatly.     And   likely  enough  I  would   have 
abandoned  any  further  trial,  but  for  Lizzie's  ridicule,  and  pre- 
tended sympathy;  asking  if  the  strong  John  Ridd  would  have 
old  Betty  to  lean  upon .     Therefore  I  set  to  again,  with  a  fixed 
resolve  not  to  notice  pain  or  stiffness,  but  to  warm  them  out 
of  me.     And  sure  enough,  before  dark  that  day,  I  could  get 
along   pretty  freely:    especially  improving  every  time,  after 
leaving  off  and  resting.     The  astonishment  of  poor  John  Fry, 
Bill  Dadds,   and  Jem  Slocombe,  when  they  saw  me  coming 
down  the  hill  upon  them,   in  the  twilight,  where  they  were 
clearing  the  furze  rick  and  trussing  it  for  cattle,  was  more 
than  I  can  tell  you ;  because  they  did  not  let  me  see  it,  but 
ran  away  with  one  accord,  and  floundered  into  a  snowdrift. 
They  believed,  and  so  did  every  one  else  (especially  when  I 
grew  able  to  glide  along  pretty  rapidly),  that  I   had   stolen 
Mother  ]\Ielldrum's  sieves,  on  which  she  was  said  to  fly  over 
the  foreland  at  midnight  every  Saturday. 

Upon  the  following  da}^,  I  held  some  council  with  my 
mother;  not  liking  to  go  without  her  permission,  yet  scarcely 
daring  to  ask  for  it.  But  here  she  disappointed  me,  on  the 
right  side  of  disappointment;  saying  that  she  had  seen  my 
pining  (Avhich  she  never  could  have  done;  because  I  had  been 
too  hard  at  work),  and  rather  than  watch  me  grieving  so,  for 
somebody  or  other,  who  now  was  all  in  all  to  me,  I  might  go 
upon  my  course,  and  God's  protection  go  with  me!  At  this  I 
was  amazed,  because  it  was  not  at  all  like  mother;  and  know- 
ing liow  well  I  had  behaved,  ever  since  the  time  of  our  snow- 
ing up,  I  was  a  little  moved  to  tell  her  that  she  could  not 
understand  me.  However  my  sense  of  duty  kept  me,  and  my 
knowledge  of  the  catechism,  from  saying  such  a  thing  as  that, 
or  even  thinking  twice  of  it.  And  so  I  took  her  at  her  word, 
which  she  was  not  prepared  for;  and  telling  her  how  proud 
I  was  of  her  trust  in  Providence,  and  how  I  could  run  in  my 
new  snow-shoes,  I  took  a  short  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and  started 
forth  accordingly. 


10  LORNA  hOONE. 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

NOT    TOO    SOON. 

When  I  started,  on  my  road  across  the  hills  and  valleys 
(which  now  were  pretty  much  alike),  the  utmost  I  could  hope 
to  do  was  to  gain  the  crest  of  hills,  and  look  into  the  Doone 
Glen.  Hence  I  might  at  least  descry  whether  Lorna  still  was 
safe,  by  the  six  nests  still  remaining,  and  the  view  of  the  Cap- 
tain's house.  When  I  was  come  to  the  open  country,  far  be- 
yond the  sheltered  homestead,  and  in  the  full  brunt  of  the 
wind,  the  keen  blast  of  the  cold  broke  on  me,  and  the  mighty 
breadth  of  snow.  Moor  and  highland,  field  and  common,  clif£ 
and  vale,  and  watercourse,  over  all  the  rolling  folds  of  misty 
white  were  hovering.  There  was  nothing  square  or  jagged 
left,  there  was  nothing  perpendicular;  all  the  rugged  lines 
were  eased,  and  all  the  breaches  smoothly  filled.  Curves,  and 
mounds,  and  rounded  heavings  took  the  place  of  rock  and 
stump;  and  all  the  country  looked  as  if  a  woman's  hand  had 
been  on  it. 

Through  the  sparkling  breadth  of  white,  which  seemed  to 
glance  my  eyes  away,  and  past  the  humps  of  laden  trees, 
bowing  their  backs  like  a  woodman,  I  contrived  to  get  along, 
half  sliding  and  half  walking,  in  places  where  a  plain-shodden 
man  must  have  sunk,  and  waited  freezing,  till  the  thaw  should 
come  to  him.  For  although  there  had  been  such  violent  frost, 
every  night,  upon  the  snow,  the  snow  itself,  having  never 
thawed,  even  for  an  hour,  had  never  coated  over.  Hence  it 
was  as  soft  and  light,  as  if  all  had  fallen  yesterday.  In  places 
where  no  drift  had  been,  but  rather  off  than  on  to  them,  three 
feet  was  the  least  of  depth :  but  where  the  wind  had  chased  it 
round,  or  any  draught  led  like  a  funnel,  or  any  thing  opposed 
it;  there  you  might  very  safely  say  that  it  ran  up  to  twenty 
feet,  or  thirty,  or  even  fifty,  and  I  believe  some  times  a 
hundred. 

At  last  I  got  to  my  spy -hill  (as  I  had  begun  to  call  it), 
although  I  never  should  have  known  it,  but  for  what  it  looked 
on.  And  even  to  know  this  last  again  required  all  the  eyes 
of  love,  soever  sharp  and  vigilant.  For  all  the  beautiful 
Glen  Doone  (shaped  from  out  the  mountains,  as  if  on  purpose 
for  the  Doones,  and  looking  in  the  summer-time  like  a  sharp- 
cut  vase  of  green)  now  was  besnowed  half  up  the  sides,  and  at 


NOT  TOO  SOON.  11 

either  end,  so  that  it  was  more  like  the  white  basins  wherein 
we  boil  plum-puddings.  Not  a  patch  of  grass  was  there,  not  a 
black  branch  of  a  tree;  all  was  white;  and  the  little  river 
flowed  beneath  an  arch  of  snow;  if  it  managed  to  flow  at  all. 

Now  this  was  a  great  surprise  to  me;  not  only  because  I 
believed  Glen  Doone  to  be  a  place  outside  all  frost,  but  also 
because  I  thought  perhaps  that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  be 
cold  near  Lorna.  And  now  it  struck  me  all  at  once  that  per- 
haps her  ewer  was  frozen  (as  mine  had  been  for  the  last  three 
weeks,  reqiiiring  embers  around  it),  and  perliaps  her  window 
would  not  shut,  any  more  than  mine  would;  and  ]jerhaps  she 
wanted  blankets.  This  idea  worked  me  up  to  such  a  chill  of 
sympathy,  and  seeing  no  Doones  now  about,  and  doubting  if 
any  guns  would  go  off,  in  this  state  of  the  weather,  and  know- 
ing that  no  man  could  catch  me  up  (except  witli  slioes  like 
mine),  I  even  resolved  to  slide  the  cliffs,  and  bravely  go  to 
Lorna. 

It  helped  me  much  in  this  resolve,  that  the  snow  came  on 
again,  thick  enough  to  blind  a  man  who  had  not  spent  his 
time  among  it,  as  I  had  done  now  for  days  and  days.  There- 
fore I  took  my  neatsfoot  oil,  wliich  now  was  clogged  like  honey, 
and  rul)bed  it  hard  into  my  leg-joints,  so  far  as  I  could  reach 
them.  And  tlien  I  set  my  back  and  elbows  well  against  a 
snow-drift,  hanging  far  adown  the  cliff,  and  saying  some  of 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  threw  myself  on  Providence.  Before  there 
was  time  to  think  or  dream,  I  landed  very  beautifully  upon  a 
ridge  of  run-up  snow  in  a  quiet  corner.  My  good  shoes,  or 
boots,  preserved  me  from  going  far  beneath  it;  though  one  of 
them  was  sadly  strained,  where  a  grub  had  gnawed  the  ash, 
in  the  early  summer-time.  Having  set  myself  aright,  and 
being  in  good  spirits,  I  made  boldly  across  the  valley  (where 
the  snow  was  furrowed  hard),  being  now  afraid  of  nobody. 

If  Lorna  had  looked  out  of  the  window,  she  would  not  have 
known  me,  with  those  boots  upon  my  feet,  and  a  well-cleaned 
sheepskin  over  me,  bearing  my  own  (J.E..)  in  red,  just  between 
my  shoulders,  but  covered  now  in  snow-flakes.  The  house 
was  partly  drifted  up,  though  not  so  much  as  ours  was ;  and  I 
crossed  the  little  stream  almost  witliout  knowing  that  it  was 
under  me.  At  first,  Ijcing  pretty  safe  against  interference 
from  the  otlier  huts,  l)y  virtue  of  the  blinding  snow,  and  the 
difliculty  of  walking,  I  examined  all  the  windows;  but  these 
were  coated  so  with  ice,  like  ferns  and  flowers  and  dazzling 
stars,  tliat  no  one  could  so  much  as  guess  wliat  might  be  inside 
of  them.     Moreover  I  was  afraid  of   prying   narrowly   into 


12  LORN  A   BOONE. 

them,  as  it  was  not  a  proper  thing  where  a  maiden  might  be : 
only  I  wanted  to  know  just  this,  whether  she  were  there,  or 
not. 

Taking  nothing  by  this  movement,  I  was  forced,  much 
against  my  will,  to  venture  to  the  door  and  knock,  in  a  hesi- 
tating manner,  not  being  sure  but  what  my  answer  might  be 
the  mouth  of  a  carbine.  However  it  was  not  so,  for  I  heard 
a  pattering  of  feet  and  a  whispering  going  on,  and  then  a  shrill 
voice  through  the  keyhole,  asking,  "Who's  there?" 

"Only  me,  John  Kidd,"  I  answered;  upon  which  I  heard  a 
little  laughter,  and  a  little  sobbing,  or  something  that  was  like 
it;  and  then  the  door  was  opened  about  a  couple  of  inches, 
with  a  bar  behind  it  still;  and  then  the  little  voice  went 
on, — 

"Put  thy  finger  in,  young  man,  with  the  old  ring  on  it. 
But  mind  thee,  if  it  be  the  wrong  one,  thou  shalt  never  draw 
it  back  again." 

Laughing  at  Gwenny's  mighty  threat,  I  showed  my  finger  in 
the  oj)ening :  upon  which  she  let  me  in,  and  barred  the  door 
again  like  lightning. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Gwenny?"  I  asked,  as  I 
slipped  about  on  the  floor,  for  I  could  not  stand  there  firmly 
with  my  great  snow-shoes  on. 

"Maning  enough,  and  bad  maning  too,"  the  Cornish  girl 
made  answer.  "  Us  be  shut  in  here,  and  starving,  and  durstn't 
let  anybody  in  upon  us.  I  wish  thou  wer't  good  to  ate,  young 
man:  I  could  manage  most  of  thee." 

I  was  so  frightened  by  her  eyes,  full  of  wolfish  hunger,  that 
I  could  only  say,  "Good  God!"  having  never  seen  the  like 
before.  Then  drew  I  forth  a  large  piece  of  bread,  which  I  had 
brought  in  case  of  accidents,  and  placed  it  in  her  hands.  She 
leaped  at  it,  as  a  starving  dog  leaps  at  sight  of  his  supper, 
and  she  set  her  teeth  in  it,  and  then  withheld  it  from  her  lips, 
with  something  very  like  an  oath  at  her  own  vile  greediness ; 
and  then  away  round  the  corner  with  it,  no  doubt  for  her 
young  mistress.  I  meanwhile  was  occupied,  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  in  taking  my  snow-shoes  off,  yet  wondering  much 
within  myself,  why  Lorna  did  not  come  to  me. 

But  presently  I  knew  the  cause ;  for  Gwenny  called  me,  and 
I  ran,  and  found  my  darling  qu.ite  unable  to  say  so  much  as, 
"John,  how  are  you?"  Between  the  hunger,  and  the  cold, 
and  the  excitement  of  my  coming,  she  had  fainted  away,  and 
lay  back  on  a  chair,  as  white  as  the  snow  around  us.  In 
betwixt  her  delicate  lips,  Gwenny  was  thrusting  with  all  her 


NOT  TOO  SOON.  13 

strength  the  hard  brown  crust  of  the  rye-bread,  which  she  had 
snatched  from  me  so. 

"Get  water,  or  get  snow,"  I  said;  "don't  you  know  what 
fainting  is,  you  very  stupid  child?  " 

"  Never  heered  on  it,  in  Carnwall,"  she  answered,  trusting 
still  to  the  bread :  "  be  un  the  same  as  bleeding?  " 

"  It  will  be  directly,  if  you  go  on  squeezing  away  with  that 
crust  so.  Eat  a  piece :  I  have  got  some  more.  Leave  my  dar- 
ling now  to  me." 

Hearing  that  I  had  some  more,  the  starving  girl  could  resist 
no  longer,  but  tore  it  in  two,  and  had  swallowed  half,  before 
I  had  coaxed  my  Lorna  back  to  sense,  and  hope,  and  joy,  and 
love. 

"I  never  expected  to  see  you  again.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  die,  John;  and  to  die  without  your  knowing  it." 

As  I  repelled  this  fearful  thought  in  a  manner  highly  forti- 
fying, the  tender  hue  flowed  back  again  into  her  famished 
cheeks  and  lips,  and  a  softer  brilliance  glistened  from  the 
depth  of  her  dark  eyes.  She  gave  me  one  little  shrunken 
hand,  and  I  could  not  help  a  tear  for  it. 

"After  all.  Mistress  Lorna,"  I  said,  pretending  to  be  gay, 
for  a  smile  might  do  her  good;  "you  do  not  love  me  as 
Gwenny  does;  for  she  even  wanted  to  eat  me." 

"And  shall,  afore  I  have  done,  young  man,"  Gwenny 
answered,  laughing;  "you  come  in  here  with  they  red  chakes, 
and  make  us  think  o'  sirloin." 

"  Eat  up  your  bit  of  brown  bread,  Gwenny.  It  is  not  good 
enough  for  your  mistress.  Bless  her  heart,  I  have  something 
here  such  as  she  never  tasted  the  like  of,  being  in  such  appe- 
tite. Look  here,  Lorna;  smell  it  first.  I  have  had  it  ever 
since  Twelfth-day,  and  kept  it  all  the  time  for  you.  Annie 
made  it.     That  is  enough  to  warrant  it  good  cooking." 

And  then  I  showed  my  great  mince-pie  in  a  bag  of  tissue 
paper,  and  I  told  them  how  the  mince-meat  Avas  made  of  golden 
pippins  finely  shred,  with  the  undercut  of  the  sirloin,  and  s|)ice 
and  fruit  accordingly  and  far  beyond  my  knowledge.  But 
Lorna  would  not  touch  a  morsel,  until  she  had  thanked  God 
for  it,  and  given  me  the  kindest  kiss,  and  put  a  piece  in 
Gwenny's  mouth. 

I  have  eaten  many  tilings  myself,  witli  very  great  enjoy- 
ment, and  keen  p('i'cc])tion  of  tlieir  merits,  and  some  thanks  to 
God  for  them,  iiut  I  never  did  enjoy  a  thing,  that  liad  found 
its  way  between  my  own  lips,  half  or  even  a  quarter  as  much 
as  I  now  enjoyed  beholding  Lorna.  sitting  proudly  upwards 


14  LORNA   BOONE. 

(to  sliow  that  she  was  faiut  no  more)  entering  into  that  mince- 
pie,  and  moving  all  her  pearls  of  teeth  (inside  her  little  mouth- 
place)  exactly  as  I  told  her.  For  I  was  afraid  lest  she  should 
be  too  fast  in  going  through  it,  and  cause  herself  more  damage 
so,  than  she  got  of  nourishment.  But  I  had  no  need  to  fear 
at  all,  and  Lorna  could  not  help  laughing  at  me,  for  thinking 
that  she  had  no  self-control. 

Some  creatures  require  a  deal  of  food  (I  myself  among  the 
number),  and  some  can  do  with  a  very  little;  making,  no  doubt, 
the  best  of  it.  And  I  have  often  noticed,  that  the  plumpest 
and  most  perfect  women  never  eat  so  hard,  and  fast,  as  the 
skinny  and  three-cornered  ones.  These  last  be  often  ashamed 
of  it,  and  eat  most  when  the  men  be  absent.  Hence  it  came 
to  pass  that  Lorna,  being  the  loveliest  of  all  maidens,  had 
as  much  as  she  could  do  to  finish  her  own  half  of  pie; 
whereas  Gwenny  Carfax  (though  generous  more  than  greedy) 
ate  up  hers  without  winking,  after  finishing  the  brown  loaf; 
and  then  I  begged  to  know  the  meaning  of  this  state  of  things. 

"The  meaning  is  sad  enough,"  said  Lorna;  "and  I  see  no 
way  out  of  it.  We  are  both  to  be  starved  until  I  let  them  do 
what  they  like  with  me." 

"  That  is  to  say,  until  you  choose  to  marry  Carver  Doone, 
and  be  slowly  killed  by  him." 

"  Slowly!  No,  John,  quickly.  I  hate  him  with  such  bitter- 
ness, that  less  than  a  week  would  kill  me." 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  that, "  said  Gwenny :  "  oh,  she  hates  him 
nicely  then:  but  not  half  so  much  as  I  do." 

I  told  them  both  that  this  state  of  things  could  be  endured 
no  longer;  on  which  point  they  agreed  with  me,  but  saw  no 
means  to  help  it.  For  if  even  Lorna  could  make  up  her  mind 
to  come  away  with  me,  and  live  at  Plover's  Barrows  farm, 
under  my  good  mother's  care,  as  I  had  urged  so  often,  behold 
the  snow  was  all  around  us,  heaped  as  high  as  mountains,  and 
how  could  any  delicate  maiden  ever  get  across  it? 

Then  I  spoke,  with  a  strange  tingle  upon  both  sides  of  my 
heart,  knowing  that  this  undertaking  was  a  serious  one  for  all, 
and  might  burn  our  farm  down, — 

"  If  I  warrant  to  take  you  safe,  and  without  much  fright  or 
hardship,  Lorna,  will  you  come  with  me?" 

"To  be  sure  I  will,  dear,"  said  my  beauty  with  a  smile,  and 
a  glance  to  follow  it ;  "I  have  small  alternative,  to  starve,  or 
go  with  you,  John." 

"  Gwenny,  have  you  courage  for  it?  Will  you  come  with 
your  young  mistress?" 


NOT   TOO   SOON.  15 

"  Will  I  stay  beliiud?  "  cried  Gweniiy,  in  a  voice  that  settled 
it.  And  so  we  began  to  arrange  about  it;  and  I  was  much 
excited.  It  was  useless  now  to  leave  it  longer :  if  it  could  be 
done  at  all,  it  could  not  be  too  quickly  done.  It  was  the 
Counsellor  who  had  ordered,  after  all  other  schemes  had  failed, 
that  his  niece  should  have  no  food  until  she  would  obey  him. 
He  had  strictly  watched  the  house,  taking  turns  with  Carver, 
to  ensure  that  none  came  nigh  it  bearing  food  or  comfort.  But 
this  evening,  they  had  thought  it  needless  to  remain  on  guard; 
and  it  would  have  been  impossible,  because  themselves  were 
busy,  offering  high  festival  to  all  the  valley,  in  right  of  their 
own  commandership.  And  Gwenny  said  that  nothing  made 
her  so  nearly  mad  with  appetite  as  the  account  she  received, 
from  a  woman,  of  all  the  dishes  preparing.  Nevertheless  she 
had  answered  bravely, — 

'*  Go  and  tell  the  Counsellor,  and  go  and  tell  the  Carver,  who 
sent  you  to  spy  upon  us,  that  we  shall  have  a  finer  dish  than 
any  set  before  them."  And  so  in  truth  they  did,  although  so 
little  dreaming  it;  for  no  Doone  that  was  ever  born,  how- 
ever much  of  a  Carver,  might  vie  with  our  Annie  for  mince- 
meat. 

Now  while  we  sat,  reflecting  much,  and  talking  a  good  deal 
more,  in  spite  of  all  the  cold, —  for  I  never  was  in  a  hurry  to 
go,  when  I  had  Lorna  with  me, —  she  said,  in  her  silvery 
voice,  which  always  led  me  so  along,  as  if  I  were  slave  to  a 
beautiful  bell, — 

"  Now,  John,  we  are  wasting  time,  dear.  You  have  praised 
my  hair,  till  it  curls  with  pride,  and  my  eyes  till  you  cannot 
see  them,  even  if  they  are  brown  diamonds,  which  I  have 
heard  for  the  fiftieth  time  at  least;  though  I  never  saw  such 
a  jewel.  Don't  you  think  that  it  is  high  time  to  put  on  your 
snow-shoes,  John?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  I  answered,  "till  we  have  settled  some- 
thing more.  I  was  so  cold  when  I  came  in ;  and  now  I  am  as 
warm  as  a  cricket.  And  so  are  you,  you  lively  soul ;  though 
you  are  not  upon  my  hearth  yet." 

"Remember,  John,"  said  Lorna,  nestling  for  a  moment  to 
me;  "the  seyerity  of  the  weather  makes  a  great  difference 
between  us.     And  you  must  never  take  advantage." 

"I  quite  understand  all  that,  dear.  And  tlie  liarder  it 
freezes  the  better,  wliile  that  understanding  continues.  Now 
do  try  to  be  serious." 

"  I  try  to  be  serious !  And  T  have  been  trying  fifty  times, 
and  could  not  bring  you  to  it,  -Jolin!     Altliough  I  am  sure  the 


16  LORNA   DOONE. 

situation,  as  the  Counsellor  always  says,  at  the  beginning  of 
a  speech,  the  situation,  to  say  the  least,  is  serious  enough  for 
any  thing.     Come,  Gwenny,  imitate  him." 

Gwenny  was  famed  for  her  imitation  of  the  Counsellor 
making  a  speech;  and  she  began  to  shake  her  hair,  and  mount 
upon  a  foot-stool;  but  I  really  could  not  have  this,  though 
even  Lorna  ordered  it.  The  truth  was  that  my  darling  maiden 
was  in  such  wild  spirits,  at  seeing  me  so  unexpected,  and  at 
the  prospect  of  release,  and  of  what  she  had  never  known, 
quiet  life,  and  happiness,  that  like  all  warm  and  loving 
natures,  she  could  scarce  control  herself. 

"  Come  to  this  frozen  window,  John,  and  see  them  light  the 
stack-fire.  They  will  little  know  who  looks  at  them.  Now 
be  very  good,  John.  You  stay  in  that  corner,  dear,  and  I  will 
stand  on  this  side;  and  try  to  breathe  yourself  a  peep-hole 
through  the  lovely  spears  and  banners.  Oh,  you  don't  know 
how  to  do  it.  I  must  do  it  for  you.  Breathe  three  times, 
like  that,  and  that;  and  then  you  rub  it  with  your  fingers, 
before  it  has  time  to  freeze  again." 

All  this  she  did  so  beautifully,  with  her  lips  put  up  like 
cherries,  and  her  fingers  bent  half  back,  as  only  girls  can  bend 
them,  and  her  little  waist  throAvn  out  against  the  white  of  the 
snowed-up  window,  that  I  made  her  do  it  three  times  over; 
and  I  stopped  her  every  time,  and  let  it  freeze  again,  that  so 
she  might  be  the  longer.  Kow  I  knew  that  all  her  love  was 
mine,  every  bit  as  much  as  mine  was  hers ;  yet  I  must  have  her 
to  show  it,  dwelling  upon  every  proof,  lengthening  out  all  cer- 
tainty. Perhaps  the  jealous  heart  is  loth  to  own  a  life  worth 
twice  its  own.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  know  that  we  thawed  the 
window  nicely. 

And  then  I  saw,  far  down  the  stream  (or  rather  down  the 
bed  of  it,  for  there  was  no  stream  visible),  a  little  form  of  fire 
arising,  red,  and  dark,  and  flickering.  Presently  it  caught  on 
something,  and  went  upward  boldly ;  and  then  it  struck  into 
many  forks,  and  then  it  fell,  and  rose  again. 

''Do  you  know  what  all  that  is,  John?"  asked  Lorna,  smil- 
ing cleverly  at  the  manner  of  my  staring. 

"How  on  earth  should  I  know?  Papists  burn  Protestants 
in  the  flesh;  and  Protestants  burn  Papists  in  efligy,  as  we 
mock  them.     Lorna,  are  they  going  to  burn  any  one  to-night?  " 

"  No,  you  dear.  I  must  rid  you  of  these  things.  I  see  that 
you  are  bigoted.  The  Doones  are  firing  Dunkery  beacon,  to 
celebrate  their  new  captain." 

"But  how  could  they  bring  it  here,  through  the  snow?  If 
they  have  sledges,  I  can  do  nothing." 


NOT  TOO   SOON.  17 

''They  brought  it  before  the  snow  began.  The  moment 
poor  grandfather  was  gone,  even  before  his  funeral,  the  young 
men,  having  none  to  check  them,  began  at  once  upon  it. 
They  had  always  borne  a  grudge  against  it :  not  that  it  ever 
did  them  harm;  but  because  it  seemed  so  insolent.  'Can't  a 
gentleman  go  home,  without  a  smoke  behind  him?'  I  have 
often  heard  them  saying.  And  though  they  have  done  it  no 
great  harm,  since  they  threw  the  firemen  on  the  fire,  many, 
many  years  ago,  they  have  often  promised  to  bring  it  here  for 
their  candle;  and  now  they  have  done  it.  Ah,  now  look! 
The  tar  is  kindled." 

Though  Lorna  took  it  so  in  joke,  I  looked  upon  it  very 
gravely,  knowing  that  this  heavy  outrage  to  the  feelings  of  the 
neighborhood  would  cause  more  stir  than  a  hundred  sheep  stolen, 
or  a  score  of  houses  sacked.  Not  of  course  that  the  beacon 
was  of  the  smallest  use  to  any  one,  neither  stopped  any  body 
from  stealing :  nay,  rather  it  was  like  the  parish-knell,  which 
begins  when  all  is  over,  and  depresses  all  the  survivors ;  yet 
I  knew  that  we  valued  it,  and  were  proud,  and  spoke  of  it  as 
a  mighty  institution;  and  even  more  than  that,  our  vestry  had 
voted,  within  the  last  two  years,  seven  shillings  and  sixpence 
to  pay  for  it,  in  proportion  with  other  parishes.  And  one  of 
the  men  who  attended  to  it,  or  at  least  who  was  paid  for  doing 
so,  was  our  Jem  Slocombe's  grandfather. 

However,  in  spite  of  all  my  regrets,  the  fire  went  up  very 
merrily,  blazing  red  and  white  and  yellow,  as  it  leaped  on 
different  things.  And  the  light  danced  on  the  snowdrifts 
with  a  misty  lilac  hue.  I  was  astonished  at  its  burning  in 
such  mighty  depths  of  snow;  but  Gwenny  said  that  the  wicked 
men  had  been  three  days  hard  at  work,  clearing,  as  it  were,  a 
cock-pit,  for  their  fire  to  have  its  way.  And  now  they  had  a 
mighty  pile,  which  must  have  covered  five  landyards  square, 
heaped  up  to  a  goodly  height,  and  eager  to  take  fire. 

In  this  I  saw  great  obstacle  to  what  I  wislied  to  manage. 
For  when  this  pyramid  should  be  kindled  thoroughly,  and 
pouring  light  and  blazes  round,  would  not  all  the  valley  be 
like  a  white  room  full  of  candles?  Thinking  thus,  I  was  half 
inclined  to  abide  my  time  for  another  night;  and  then  my 
second  thoughts  convinced  me  tliat  I.  would  be  a  fool  in  this. 
For  lo,  what  an  opportunity !  All  tlie  Doones  would  be  drunk 
of  course,  in  about  three  hours'  time,  and  getting  more  and 
more  in  drink,  as  tlie  night  went  on.  As  for  the  fire,  it  must 
sink  in  about  three  hours  or  mor(>,  and  only  cast  uncertain 
shadows  friendly  to  my  purpose.  And  then  the  outlaws  must 
vol..  II.  —  2 


18  LORNA  BOONE. 

cower  round  it,  as  the  cold  increased  on  them,  helping  the 
weight  of  the  liquor;  and  in  their  jollity  any  noise  would  be 
cheered  as  a  false  alarm.  Most  of  all,  and  which  decided  once 
for  all  my  action, —  when  these  wild  and  reckless  villains 
should  be  hot  with  ardent  spirits,  what  was  door,  or  wall,  to 
stand  betwixt  them  and  my  Lorna? 

This  thought  quickened  me  so  much  that  I  touched  my  dar- 
ling reverently,  and  told  her  in  a  few  short  words  how  I  hoped 
to  manage  it. 

"  Sweetest,  in  two  hours'  time,  I  shall  be  again  with  you. 
Keep  the  bar  up,  and  have  Gwenny  ready  to  answer  any  one. 
You  are  safe  while  they  are  dining,  dear,  and  drinking  healtlis 
and  all  that  stuff;  and  before  they  have  done  with  that,  I  sliall 
be  again  with  you.  Have  every  thing  you  care  to  take  in  a 
very  little  compass;  and  Gwenny  must  have  no  baggage.  I 
shall  knock  loud,  and  then  wait  a  little ;  and  then  knock  twice, 
very  softly." 

With  this,  I  folded  her  in  my  arms ;  and  she  looked  fright- 
ened at  me;  not  having  perceived  her  danger:  and  then  I  told 
Gwenny  over  again  what  I  had  told  her  mistress :  but  she  only 
nodded  her  head  and  said,  "Young  man,  go  and  teach  thy 
grandmother." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

BROUGHT    HOME    AT   LAST, 

To  my  great  delight,  I  found  that  the  weather,  not  often 
friendly  to  lovers,  and  lately  seeming  so  hostile,  had  in  the 
most  important  matter  done  me  a  signal  service.  For  when 
I  had  promised  to  take  my  love  from  the  power  of  those 
wretches,  tlie  only  way  of  escape  apparent  lay  tlirough  the 
main  Doone-gate.  For  though  I  might  climb  the  cliffs  my- 
self, especially  with  the  snow  to  aid  me,  I  durst  not  try  to 
fetch  Lorna  up  them,  even  if  she  were  not  half-starved,  as 
well  as  partly  frozen;  and  as  for  Gwenny's  door,  as  we 
called  it  (that  is  to  say,  the  little  entrance  from  the  wooded 
hollow),  it  was  snowed  up  long  ago  to  the  level  of  the  hills 
around.  Therefore  I  was  at  my  wit's  .end,  how  to  get  them 
out ;  the  passage  by  the  Doone-gate  being  long,  and  dark,  and 
difficult,  and  leading  to  such  a  weary  circuit  among  the  snowy 
moors  and  hills. 


BROUGHT  HOME  AT  LAST.  19 

But  now,  being  homeward-bound  by  tlie  sliortest  ])ossible 
track,  I  slipped  along  between  tlie  bonfire  and  the  boundary 
cliifs,  where  I  found  a  caved  way  of  snow  behind  a  sort  of 
avalanche:  so  that  if  the  Doones  had  been  keeping  watch 
(which  they  were  not  doing,  but  revelling)  they  could  scarcely 
have  discovered  me.  And  vv^hen  I  came  to  my  old  ascent, 
where  I  had  often  scaled  the  cliff  and  made  across  the  moun- 
tains, it  struck  me  that  I  would  just  have  a  look  at  my  first 
and  painful  entrance,  to  wit,  the  water-slide,  I  never  for  a 
moment  imagined  that  this  could  help  me  now ;  for  I  never 
had  dared  to  descend  it,  even  in  the  finest  weather;  still  I  had 
a  curiosity  to  know  what  my  old  friend  was  like,  with  so  much 
snow  u})on  him.  But,  to  my  very  great  surprise,  there  was 
scarcely  any  snow  there  at  all,  though  plenty  curling  high 
over  head  from  the  cliff,  like  bolsters  over  it.  Probably  the 
sweeping  of  the  north-east  wind  up  the  narrow  chasm  had 
kept  the  showers  from  blocking  it,  although  the  water  had  no 
power  under  the  bitter  grip  of  frost.  All  my  water-slide  was 
now  less  a  slide  than  path  of  ice;  furrowed  where  the  waters 
ran  over  fluted  ridges;  seamed  where  wind  had  tossed  and 
combed  them,  even  while  congealing;  and  crossed  with  little 
steps  wherever  the  freezing  torrent  lingered.  And  here  and 
there  the  ice  was  fibred  with  the  trail  of  sludge-weed,  slanting 
from  the  side,  and  matted,  so  as  to  make  resting-place. 

Lo,  it  was  easy  track  and  channel,  as  if  for  the  very  purpose 
made,  down  which  I  could  guide  my  sledge,  with  Lorna  sitting 
in  it.  There  were  only  two  things  to  be  feared;  one  lest  the 
rolls  of  snow  above  should  fall  in  and  bury  us ;  the  other  lest 
we  should  rush  too  fast,  and  so  be  carried  lieadlong  into  the 
black  whirlpool  at  the  bottom,  the  middle  of  which  was  still 
unfrozen,  and  looking  more  horrible  by  the  contrast.  Against 
tliis  danger  I  made  provision,  by  fixing  a  stout  bar  across;  but 
of  the  other  we  must  take  our  chance,  and  trust  ourselves  to 
Providence. 

I  hastened  home  at  my  utmost  speed,  and  told  my  mother 
for  God's  sake  to  keep  the  house  up  till  my  return,  and  to 
have  plenty  of  fire  blazing,  and  plenty  of  water  boiling,  and 
food  enough  hot  for  a  dozen  people,  and  the  best  bed  aired 
with  the  warming-pan.  Dear  mother  smiled  softly  at  my 
excitement,  though  lier  own  was  not  much  less,  I  am  sure,  and 
enhanced  by  sore  anxiety.  Then  I  gave  very  strict  directions 
to  Annie,  and  praised  her  a  little,  and  kissed  her;  and  I  even 
endeavored  to  flatter  Eliza,  lest  she  should  be  disagreeable. 

After  this  I  took  some  brandy,  both  within  and  about  me; 


20  LORN  A  BOONE. 

the  former,  because  I  had  sharp  work  to  do ;  and  the  latter  in 
fear  of  whatever  might  happen,  in  such  great  cokl,  to  my  com- 
rades. Also  I  carried  some  other  provisions,  grieving  much  at 
their  coldness ;  and  then  I  went  to  the  upper  linhay,  and  took 
our  new  light  pony-sledd,  which  had  been  made  almost  as 
much  for  pleasure  as  for  business;  though  God  only  knows 
how  our  girls  could  have  found  any  pleasure  in  bumping  along 
so.  On  the  snow,  however,  it  ran  as  sweetly  as  if  it  had  been 
made  for  it ;  yet  I  durst  not  take  the  pony  with  it ;  in  the  lirst 
place,  because  his  hoofs  would  break  through  the  ever-shifting 
surface  of  the  light  and  piling  snow;  and  secondly,  because 
those  ponies,  coming  from  the  forest,  have  a  dreadful  trick  of 
neighing,  and  most  of  all  in  frosty  weather. 

Therefore  I  girded  my  own  body  with  a  dozen  turns  of  hay- 
rope,  twisting  both  the  ends  in  under  at  the  bottom  of  my 
breast,  and  winding  the  hay  on  the  skew  a  little,  that  the 
hempen  thong  might  not  slip  between,  and  so  cut  me  in  the 
drawing.  I  put  a  good  piece  of  spare  rope  in  the  sledd,  and 
the  cross-seat  with  the  back  to  it,  which  Avas  stuffed  with  our 
own  wool,  as  well  as  two  or  three  fur  coats :  and  then  just  as 
I  was  starting,  out  came  Annie,  in  spite  of  the  cold,  panting 
for  fear  of  missing  me,  and  with  nothing  on  her  head,  but  a 
lanthorn  in  one  hand. 

"  0,  John,  here  is  the  most  wonderful  thing !  Mother  has 
never  shown  it  before;  and  I  can't  think  how  she  could  make 
up  her  mind.  She  had  gotten  it  in  a  great  well  of  a  cupboard, 
with  camphor,  and  spirits,  and  lavender.  Lizzie  says  it  is  a 
most  magnificent  sealskin  cloak,  worth  fifty  pounds,  or  a 
farthing." 

"At  any  rate  it  is  soft  and  warm,"  said  I,  very  calmly  fling- 
ing it  into  the  bottom  of  the  sledd.  "  Tell  mother  I  will  put 
it  over  Lorna's  feet." 

"Lorna's  feet!  Oh,  you  great  fool;"  cried  Annie,  for  the 
first  time  reviling  me:  "over  her  shoulders;  and  be  proud, 
you  very  stupid  John." 

"It  is  not  good  enough  for  her  feet,"  I  answered,  with 
strong  emphasis;  "but  don't  tell  mother  I  said  so,  Annie. 
Only  thank  her  very  kindly." 

With  that  I  drew  my  traces  hard,  and  set  my  ashen  staff  into 
the  snow,  and  struck  out  with  my  best  foot  foremost  (the  best 
one  at  snow-shoes,  I  mean),  and  the  sledd  came  after  me  as 
lightly  as  a  dog  might  follow;  and  Annie  with  the  lanthorn 
seemed  to  be  left  behind  and  waiting,  like  a  pretty  lamp-post. 

The  full  moon  rose  as  bright  behind  me  as  a  patin  of  pure 


BROUGHT  HOME  AT  LAST.  21 

silver,  casting  on  tlie  snow  long  shadows  of  the  few  things 
left  above,  burdened  rock,  and  shaggy  foreland,  and  the  labor- 
ing trees.  In  the  great  white  desolation,  distance  was  a  mock- 
ing vision:  hills  looked  nigh,  and  valleys  far;  when  hills  were 
far  and  valleys  nigh.  And  the  misty  breath  of  frost,  piercing 
through  the  ribs  of  rock,  striking  to  the  pith  of  trees,  creep- 
ing to  the  heart  of  man,  lay  along  the  hollow  places,  like  a 
serpent  sloughing.  Even  as  my  own  gaunt  shadow  (trav- 
estied as  if  I  were  the  moonlight's  daddy-longlegs)  went 
before  me  down  the  slope;  even  1,  the  shadow's  master,  who 
had  tried  in  vain  to  cough,  when  coughing  brought  good 
liquorice,  felt  a  pressure  on  my  bosom,  and  a  husking  in  my 
throat. 

However,  I  went  on  quietly,  and  at  a  very  tidy  speed ;  being 
only  too  thankful  that  the  snow  had  ceased,  and  no  wind  as 
yet  arisen.  And  from  the  ring  of  low  white  vapor  girding  all 
*-he  verge  of  sky,  and  from  the  rosy  blue  above,  and  the  shafts 
of  atari ight  set  upon  a  quivering  bow,  as  well  as  from  the 
moon  itself  and  the  liglit  behind  it,  having  learned  the  signs 
of  frost  from  its  bitter  twinges,  I  knew  that  we  should  have  a 
night  as  keen  as  ever  England  felt.  Nevertheless,  I  had  work 
enough  to  keep  me  warm  if  I  managed  it.  The  question  was, 
could  I  contrive  to  save  my  darling  from  it? 

Daring  not  to  risk  my  sledd  by  any  fall  from  the  valley- 
cliffs,  I  dragged  it  very  carefully  up  the  steep  incline  of  ice, 
through  the  narrow  chasm,  and  so  to  the  very  brink  and  verge 
where  first  I  had  seen  my  Lorna,  in  the  fishing-days  of  boyhood. 
As  then  I  had  a  trident  fork,  for  sticking  of  the  loaches,  so 
now  I  had  a  strong  ash  stake,  to  lay  across  from  rock  to  rock, 
and  break  the  speed  of  descending.  With  this  I  moored  the 
sledd  quite  safe,  at  the  very  lip  of  the  chasm,  where  all  was 
now  substantial  ice,  green  and  black  in  the  moonlight;  and 
then  I  set  off  up  tlie  valley,  skirting  along  one  side  of  it. 

The  stack-fire  still  was  burning  strongly,  but  with  more  of 
heat  than  blaze;  and  many  of  the  younger  Dooncs  were  play- 
ing on  the  verge  of  it,  the  children  making  rings  of  fire,  and 
their  motliers  watching  tliem.  All  the  grave  and  reverend 
warriors,  having  heard  of  rheumatism,  were  inside  of  log  and 
stone,  in  the  two  lowest  houses,  with  enough  of  candles  burn- 
ing to  make  our  list  of  sheep  come  short. 

All  these  I  passed,  without  the  smallest  risk  or  difficulty, 
walking  u])  the  channel  of  drift  which  I  spoke  of  once  before. 
And  tlieu  [  crossed,  with  more  of  care,  and  to  tlie  door  of 
Ijorna's  house,  and  made  the  sign,  and  listened,  after  taking 
iny  snow-shoes  off. 


22  LOBNA   DOONE. 

But  no  one  came,  as  I  expected,  neither  could  I  espy  a  light. 
And  I  seemed  to  hear  a  faint  low  sound,  like  the  moaning  of 
the  snow-wind.  Then  I  knocked  again  more  loudly,  with  a 
knocking  at  my  heart;  and  receiving  no  answer,  set  all  my 
power  at  once  against  the  door.  In  a  moment  it  flew  inwards, 
and  I  glided  along  the  passage  with  my  feet  still  slippery. 
There  in  Lorna's  room  I  saw,  by  the  moonlight  flowing  in,  a 
sight  which  drove  me  beyond  sense. 

Lorna  was  behind  a  chair,  crouching  in  the  corner,  with  her 
hands  up,  and  a  crucifix,  or  something  that  looked  like  it.  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  lay  Gwenny  Carfax,  stupid,  yet  with 
one  hand  clutching  the  ankle  of  a  struggling  man.  Another 
man  stood  above  my  Lorna,  trying  to  draw  the  chair  away. 
In  a  moment  I  had  him  round  the  waist,  and  he  went  out  of 
the  windoAV  with  a  mighty  crash  of  glass ;  luckily  for  him  that 
Avindow  had  no  bars  like  some  of  them.  Then  I  took  the 
other  man  by  the  neck;  and  he  could  not  plead  for  mercy.  I 
bore  him  out  of  the  house  as  lightly  as  I  would  bear  a  baby, 
yet  squeezing  his  throat  a  little  more  than  I  fain  would  do  to 
an  infant.  By  the  bright  moonlight  I  saw  that  I  carried 
Marwood  de  Whichehalse.  For  his  father's  sake  I  spared  him, 
and  because  he  had  been  my  schoolfellow:  but  Avith  every 
muscle  of  my  body  strung  with  indignation,  I  cast  him,  like 
a  skittle,  from  me  into  a  snowdrift,  which  closed  over  him. 
Then  I  looked  for  the  other  fellow,  tossed  through  Lorna's 
window ;  and  f omid  him  lying  stunned  and  bleeding,  neither 
able  to  groan  yet.  Charleworth  Doone,  if  his  gushing  blood 
did  not  much  mislead  me. 

It  was  no  time  to  linger  now:  I  fastened  my  shoes  in  a 
moment,  and  caught  up  my  own  darling  with  her  head  upon 
my  shoulder,  where  she  whispered  faintly ;  and  telling  Gwenny 
to  follow  me,  or  else  I  would  come  back  for  her,  if  she  could 
not  walk  the  snow,  I  ran  the  whole  distance  to  my  sledd,  car- 
ing not  who  might  follow  me.  Then  by  the  time  I  had  set 
up  Lorna,  beautiful  and  smiling,  with  the  sealskin  cloak  all 
over  her,  sturdy  Gwenny  came  along,  having  trudged  in  the 
track  of  my  snow-shoes,  although  witli  two  bags  on  her  back. 
I  set  her  in  beside  her  mistress,  to  support  her,  and  keep 
warm;  and  then  with  one  look  back  at  the  glen,  which  had 
been  so  long  my  home  of  heart,  I  hung  behind  the  sledd,  and 
launched  it  down  the  steep  and  dangerous  way. 

Though  the  cliffs  were  black  above  us,  and  the  road  unseen 
in  front,  and  a  great  white  grave  of  snow  might  at  a  single 
word  come  down,  Lorna  was  as  calm  and  happy  as  an  infant 


BROUGUT  HOME  AT  LAST.  23 

in  its  bed.  She  knew  tliat  I  was  with  her;  and  when  I  told 
her  not  to  speak,  she  touched  my  hand  in  silence.  GAvenny 
was  in  a  much  greater  fright,  having  never  seen  such  a  thing 
before,  neither  knowing  what  it  is  to  yield  to  pure  love's  con- 
fidence. I  could  hardly  keep  her  quiet,  without  making  a 
noise  myself.  Witii  my  staff  from  rock  to  rock,  and  my 
weight  thrown  backward,  I  broke  the  sledd's  too  rapid  way, 
and  brought  my  grown  love  safely  out,  by  the  self -same  road 
which  first  had  led  me  to  her  girlish  fancy,  and  my  boyish 
slavery. 

Unpursued,  yet  looking  back  as  if  some  one  must  be  after 
us,  we  skirted  round  tlie  black  whirling  pool,  and  gained  the 
meadows  beyond  it.  Here  there  was  hard  collar  work,  the 
track  being  all  uphill  and  rough;  and  Gwenny  wanted  to  jump 
out,  to  lighten  the  sledd  and  to  push  behind.  But  I  would 
not  hear  of  it;  because  it  was  now  so  deadly  cold,  and  I  feared 
that  Lorna  might  get  frozen,  without  having  Gwenny  to  keep 
her  warm.  And  after  all,  it  was  the  sweetest  labor  I  had  ever 
known  in  all  my  life,  to  be  sure  that  I  was  pulling  Lorna,  and 
pulling  her  to  our  own  farm-house. 

Gwenny's  nose  was  touched  with  frost,  before  we  had  gone 
much  further,  because  she  would  not  keep  it  quiet  and  snug 
beneath  the  sealskin.  And  here  I  had  to  stop  in  the  moon- 
light (which  was  very  dangerous)  and  rub  it  with  a  clove  of 
snow,  as  Eliza  had  taught  me;  and  Gwenny  scolding  all  the 
time,  as  if  myself  had  frozen  it.  Lorna  was  now  so  far  op- 
pressed with  all  the  troubles  of  the  evening,  and  the  joy  that 
followed  them,  as  well  as  by  the  piercing  cold  and  difficulty 
of  breathing,  that  she  lay  quite  motionless,  like  fairest  wax  in 
the  moonliglit  —  wlien  we  stole  a  glance  at  her,  beneath  the 
dark  folds  of  the  cloak;  and  I  thought  that  she  was  falling 
into  the  heavy  snow-slepp,  whence  there  is  no  awaking. 

Therefore  I  drew  my  traces  tiglit,  and  set  my  whole  strength 
to  the  business;  and  we  slipijed  along  at  a  merry  pace, 
although  with  many  joltings,  which  must  have  sent  my  dar- 
ling out  into  tlie  cold  snow-drifts,  but  for  tlie  short  strong  arm 
of  Gwenny.  And  so  in  about  an  hour's  time,  in  spite  of  many 
hindrances,  we  came  home  to  the  old  courtyard,  and  all  the 
dogs  saluted  us.  My  heart  was  quivering,  and  my  cheeks  as 
hot  as  the  Doones'  bonfire,  with  wondering  both  what  Lorna 
would  think  of  our  farm-yard,  and  what  my  mother  would 
til  ink  of  lier.  Upon  the  former  subject  my  anxiety  was 
wasted,  for  Lorna  neither  saw  a  thing,  nor  even  opened  Ikm" 
li<!avy  eyes.  And  as  to  wliat  niotlicr  would  think  ol'  her,  she 
was  certain  not  to  think  at  nil,  iiiiJil  she  had  cried  over  her. 


24  LOBNA   BOONE. 

And  so  indeed  it  came  to  pass.  Even  at  this  length  of  time, 
I  can  hardly  tell  it,  although  so  bright  before  my  mind,  be- 
cause it  moves  my  heart  so.  The  sledd  was  at  the  open  door, 
with  only  Lorna  in  it :  for  Gwenny  Carfax  had  jumped  out, 
and  hung  back  in  the  clearing,  giving  any  reason  rather  than 
the  only  true  one  —  that  she  would  not  be  intruding.  At  the 
door  were  all  our  people;  first  of  course  Betty  Muxworthy, 
teaching  me  how  to  draw  the  sledd,  as  if  she  had  been  born  in 
it,  and  flourishing  with  a  great  broom,  wherever  a  speck  of 
snow  lay.  Then  dear  Annie,  and  old  Molly  (who  was  very 
quiet,  and  counted  almost  for  nobody),  and  behind  them 
mother,  looking  as  if  she  wanted  to  come  first,  but  doubted 
how  the  manners  lay.  In  the  distance  Lizzie  stood,  fearful  of 
encouraging,  but  unable  to  keep  out  of  it. 

Betty  was  going  to  poke  her  broom  right  in  under  the  seal- 
skin cloak,  where  Lorna  lay  unconscious,  and  where  her  prec- 
ious breath  hung  frozen,  like  a  silver  cobweb;  but  I  caught  up 
Betty's  broom,  and  Hung  it  clean  away  over  the  corn  cham- 
ber; and  then  I  put  the  others  by,  and  fetched  my  mother 
forward. 

"  You  shall  see  her  first,"  I  said;  "  is  she  not  your  daughter? 
Hold  the  light  there,  Annie." 

Dear  mother's  hands  were  quick  and  trembling,  as  she 
opened  the  shining  folds ;  and  there  she  saw  my  Lorna  sleep- 
ing, with  her  black  hair  all  dishevelled,  and  she  bent  and 
kissed  her  forehead,  and  only  said,  "  God  bless  her,  John ! " 
And  then  she  was  taken  with  violent  weeping,  and  I  was  forced 
to  hold  her. 

"Us  may  tich  of  her  now,  I  rackon,"  said  Bettj^  in  her  most 
jealous  way:  "Annie,  tak  her  by  the  head,  and  I'll  tak  her  by 
the  toesen.  No  taime  to  stand  here  like  girt  gawks.  Don'ee 
tak  on  zo,  missus.  There  be  vainer  vish  in  the  zea  —  Lor,  but 
her  be  a  booty !  " 

With  this,  they  carried  her  into  the  house,  Betty  chattering 
all  the  while,  and  going  on  now  about  Lorna' s  hands,  and  the 
others  crowding  round  her,  so  that  I  thought  I  was  not 
wanted  among  so  many  women,  and  should  only  get  the  worst 
of  it,  and  perhaps  do  harm  to  my  darling.  Therefore  I  went 
and  brought  Gwenny  in,  and  gave  her  a  potful  of  bacon  and 
peas,  and  an  iron  spoon  to  eat  it  with,  which  she  did  right 
heartily. 

Then  I  asked  her  how  she  could  have  been  such  a  fool  as  to 
let  those  two  vile  fellows  enter  the  house  wliere  Lorna  was ; 
and  she  accounted  for  it  so  naturally,  that  I  could  only  blame 


BROUGHT  HOME  AT  LAST.  25 

myself.  For  my  agreement  had  been  to  give  one  loud  knock 
(if  you  happen  to  remember)  and  after  that  two  little  knocks. 
Well,  these  two  drunken  rogues  had  come;  and  one,  being 
very  drunk  indeed,  had  given  a  great  thump;  and  then  noth- 
ing more  to  do  with  it;  and  the  other,  being  three-quarters 
drunk,  had  followed  his  leader  (as  one  might  say)  but  feebly, 
and  making  two  of  it.  "Whereupon  up  jumped  Lorna,  and 
declared  that  her  John  was  there. 

All  this  Gwenny  told  me  shortly,  between  the  whiles  of  eat- 
ing, and  even  Avhile  she  licked  the  spoon :  and  then  there  came 
a  message  for  me,  that  my  love  was  sensible,  and  was  seek- 
ing all  around  for  me.  Then  I  told  Gwenny  to  hold  her 
tongue  (whatever  she  did,  among  us),  and  not  to  trust  to 
women's  words;  and  she  told  me  they  all  were  liars,  as  she 
had  found  out  long  ago;  and  the  only  thing  to  believe  in 
was  an  honest  man,  when  found.  Thereuj)on  I  could  have 
kissed  her,  as  a  sort  of  tribute,  liking  to  be  appreciated;  yet 
the  peas  upon  her  lips  made  me  think  about  it ;  and  thought  is 
fatal  to  action.     So  I  went  to  see  my  dear. 

That  sight  I  shall  not  forget;  till  my  dying  head  falls  back, 
and  my  breast  can  lift  no  more.  I  know  not  whether  I  were 
then  more  blessed,  or  harrowed  by  it.  For  in  the  settle  was 
my  Lorna,  propped  with  pillows  round  her,  and  her  clear 
hands  spread  sometimes  to  the  blazing  fire-place.  In  her 
eyes  no  knowledge  was  of  any  thing  around  her,  neither  in 
her  neck  the  sense  of  leaning  towards  anything.  Only  both 
her  lovely  hands  Avere  entreating  something,  to  spare  her  or  to 
love  her;  and  the  lines  of  supplication  quivered  in  her  sad 
white  face. 

"All  go  away  except  my  mother,"  I  said  very  quietly,  but 
so  that  I  would  be  obeyed;  and  every  body  knew  it.  Then 
mother  came  to  me  alone ;  and  she  said,  "  The  frost  is  in  her 
brain:  I  have  heard  of  this  before,  John."  "Mother,  I  will 
have  it  out,"  was  all  that  I  could  answer  her;  "leave  her  to 
me  altogether:  only  you  sit  there  and  watch."  For  I  felt 
tliat  Lorna  knew  me,  and  no  other  soul  but  me;  and  that  if 
not  interfered  with,  she  would  soon  come  home  to  me.  There- 
fore I  sat  gently  l)y  her,  leaving  nature,  as  it  were,  to  her  own 
good  time  and  will.  And  presently  the  glance  that  watched 
me,  as  at  distance  and  in  doubt,  began  to  flutter  and  to 
brighten,  and  to  deepen  into  kindness,  then  to  beam  with  trust 
and  love,  and  then  with  gathering  tears  to  falter,  and  in  sliame 
to  turn  away.  But  the  small  entreating  hands  found  their 
way,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  my  great  protecting  palms;  and 
trembled  there  and  rested  there. 


26  LORNA  BOONE. 

For  a  little  while  we  lingered  tlius,  neither  wishing  to  move 
away,  neither  caring  to  look  beyond  the  presence  of  the  other ; 
both  alike  so  full  of  hope,  and  comfort,  and  true  happiness ;  if 
only  the  world  would  let  us  be.  And  then  a  little  sob  dis- 
turbed us,  and  mother  tried  to  make  believe  that  she  was  only 
coughing.  But  Lorna,  guessing  who  she  was,  jumped  up  so 
very  rashly  that  she  almost  set  her  frock  on  lire  from  the  great 
ash-log;  and  away  she  ran  to  the  old  oak  chair,  where  motlier 
was  by  the  clock-case  pretending  to  be  knitting,  and  she  took 
the  work  from  mother's  hands,  and  laid  them  both  upon  her 
head,  kneeling  humbly,  and  looking  up. 

"God  bless  you,  my  fair  mistress!"  said  mother,  bending 
nearer,  and  then  as  Lorna's  gaze  prevailed,  "  God  bless  you, 
my  sweet  child! " 

And  so  she  went  to  mother's  heart,  by  the  very  nearest  road, 
even  as  she  had  come  to  mine;  I  mean  the  road  of  pity, 
smoothed  by  grace,  and  youth,  and  gentleness. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A    CHANGE    LONG   NEEDED. 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  gone  south,  ere  ever  the  frost  set  in, 
for  the  purpose  of  mustering  forces  to  attack  the  Doone  Glen. 
But  now  this  weather  had  put  a  stop  to  every  kind  of  move- 
ment; for  even  if  men  could  have  borne  the  cold,  they  could 
scarcely  be  brought  to  face  the  perils  of  the  snow-drifts.  And 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  cared  not  hoAV  long  this  weather  lasted,  so 
long  as  we  had  enough  to  eat,  and  could  keep  ourselves  from 
freezing.  Not  only  that  I  did  not  want  Master  Stickles  back 
again,  to  make  more  disturbances ;  but  also  that  the  Doones 
could  not  come  proAvling  after  Lorna,  Avhile  the  snoAV  lay  piled 
between  us,  with  the  surface  soft  and  dry.  Of  course,  they 
would  very  soon  discover  where  their  lawful  queen  was,  al- 
though the  track  of  sledd  and  snow-shoes  had  been  quite 
obliterated  by  another  shower,  before  the  revellers  could  have 
grown  half  as  drunk  as  they  intended.  But  Marwood  de 
Whichehalse,  who  had  been  snowed  up  among  them  (as 
Gwenny  said),  after  helping  to  strip  the  beacon,  that  young 
Squire  was  almost  certain  to  have  recognized  me,  and  to  have 
told  vile  Carver.  And  it  gave  me  no  little  pleasure  to  think 
how  mad  that  Carver  must  be  with  me,  for  robbing  him  of  the 


"God    hi. ess   you,   My   sweet   child!  "  — Vol.  II.  p.  26. 


A    CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  27 

lovely  bride  t\'1ioiu  he  was  starving  into  matrimony.  How- 
ever, I  was  not  pleased  at  all  with  the  prospect  of  the  conse- 
quences; but  set  all  hands  on  to  thresh  the  corn,  ere  the 
Doones  could  come  and  burn  the  ricks.  For  I  knew  that  they 
could  not  come  yet,  inasmuch  as  even  a  forest  pony  could  not 
traverse  the  country,  much  less  the  heavy  horses  needed  to 
carry  such  men  as  they  were.  And  hundreds  of  the  forest 
ponies  died  in  this  hard  weather,  some  being  buried  in  the 
snow,  and  more  of  them  starved  for  want  of  grass. 

Going  through  this  state  of  things,  and  laying  down  the 
law  about  it  (subject  to  correction),  I  very  soon  persuaded 
Lorna  that  for  the  present  she  was  safe,  and  (which  made  her 
still  more  happy)  that  she  was  not  only  welcome,  but  as  glad- 
dening to  our  eyes  as  the  Howers  of  May.  Truly,  so  far  as 
regarded  myself,  this  was  not  a  liundredth  part  of  the  real 
truth;  and  even  as  regarded  others,  I  might  have  said  it  ten 
times  over.  For  Lorna  had  so  won  them  all,  by  her  kind  and 
gentle  ways,  and  her  mode  of  hearkening  to  every  body's 
trouble,  and  replying  without  words,  as  well  as  by  her  beauty, 
and  simple  grace  of  all  things,  that  I  could  almost  wish  some- 
times the  rest  would  leave  her  more  to  me.  But  mother  could 
not  do  enough;  and  Annie  almost  worshipped  her;  and  even 
Lizzie  could  not  keep  her  bitterness  towards  her;  especially 
wlien  she  found  that  Lorna  knew  as  much  of  books  as  need  be. 

As  for  John  Fry,  and  Betty,  and  Molly,  they  were  a  perfect 
plague,  when  Lorna  came  into  the  kitchen.  For  betwixt  their 
curiosity  to  see  a  live  Doone  in  the  flesh  (when  certain  not  to 
eat  them),  and  their  high  respect  for  birth  (with  or  without 
honesty),  and  their  intense  desire  to  know  all  about  Master 
John's  sweetheart  (dropped,  as  they  said,  from  the  snow- 
clouds),  and  most  of  all  their  admiration  of  a  beauty,  such  as 
never  even  their  angels  could  have  seen  —  betwixt  and  be- 
tween all  this,  I  say,  there  was  no  getting  the  dinner  cooked, 
with  Lorna  in  the  kitchen. 

And  tlie  worst  of  it  was  that  Lorna  took  the  strangest  of  all 
strange  fancies  for  this  very  kitchen;  and  it  was  hard  to  keep 
her  out  of  it.  Not  that  she  had  any  special  bent  for  cooking, 
as  our  Annie  had;  ratlier  indeed  the  contrary,  for  she  liked 
to  have  her  food  ready  cooked;  but  that  she  loved  the  look  of 
the  jjlace,  and  tlie  chcci'ful  fire  burning,  and  the  raciks  of 
bacon  to  be  seen,  and  t]ie  richness,  and  the  homeliness,  and 
the  pleasant  smell  of  everything.  And  who  knows  but  what 
she  may  have  liked  (as  tlie  very  best  of  maidens  do)  to  be 
admired,  now  and  then,  between  tlie  times  of  business? 


28  LORNA  DOONE. 

Therefore  if  you  wanted  Lorna  (as  I  was  always  sure  to  do, 
God  knows  how  many  times  a  day)  the  very  surest  place  to 
find  her  was  our  own  old  kitchen.  Not  gossiping,  I  mean, 
nor  loitering,  neither  seeking  into  things;  but  seeming  to  be 
quite  at  home,  as  if  she  had  known  it  from  a  child,  and  seem- 
ing (to  my  eyes  at  least)  to  light  it  up,  and  make  life  and  color 
out  of  all  the  dulness;  as  I  have  seen  the  breaking  sun  do 
among  brown  shocks  of  wheat. 

But  any  one  who  wished  to  learn  whether  girls  can  change 
or  not,  as  the  things  around  them  change  (while  yet  their 
hearts  are  steadfast,  and  for  ever  anchored),  he  should  just 
have  seen  my  Lorna,  after  a  fortnight  of  our  life,  and  freedom 
from  anxiety.  It  is  possible  that  my  company  —  although  I 
am  accounted  stupid,  by  folk  who  do  not  know  my  way  —  niay 
have  had  something  to  do  with  it;  but  upon  this  I  will  not  say 
much,  lest  I  lose  my  character.  And  indeed,  as  regards  com- 
pany, I  had  all  the  threshing  to  see  to,  and  more  than  half  to 
do  myself  (though  any  stranger  would  have  thought,  that  even 
John  Fry  must  work  hard  this  weather),  else  I  could  not  hope 
at  all,  to  get  our  corn  into  such  compass  that  a  good  gun  might 
protect  it. 

But  to  come  back  to  Lorna  again  (which  I  always  longed  to 
do,  and  must  long  for  ever),  all  the  change  between  night  and 
day,  all  the  shifts  of  cloud  and  sun,  all  the  difference  between 
black  death  and  brightsome  liveliness,  scarcely  may  suggest  or 
equal  Lorna's  transformation.  Quick  she  had  always  been, 
and  "  peart "  (as  we  say  on  Exmoor)  and  gifted  with  a  leap  of 
thought  too  swift  for  me  to  follow ;  and  hence  you  may  find 
fault  with  much,  when  I  report  her  sayings.  But  through  the 
whole  had  always  run,  as  a  black  string  goes  through  pearls, 
something  dark  and  touched  with  shadow,  colored  as  with  an 
early  end. 

But,  now,  behold,  there  was  none  of  this!  There  was  no 
getting  her,  for  a  moment  even,  to  be  serious.  All  her  bright 
young  wit  was  flashing,  like  a  newly-awakened  flame,  and  all 
her  high  young  spirits  leaped,  as  if  dancing  to  its  fire.  And  yet 
she  never  spoke  a  word  which  gave  more  pain  than  pleasure. 

And  even  in  her  outward  look  there  was  much  of  difference. 
Whether  it  was  our  warmth,  and  freedom,  and  our  harmless 
love  of  God,  and  trust  in  one  another ;  or  whether  it  were  our 
air,  and  water,  and  the  pea-fed  bacon ;  anyhow  my  Lorna  grew 
richer  and  more  lovely,  more  perfect  and  more  firm  of  figure, 
and  more  light  and  buoyant,  with  every  passing  day  that  laid 
its  tribute  on  her  cheeks  and  lips.     I  was  allowed  one  kiss  a 


A   CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  29 

day;  only  one  for  manners'  sake,  because  slie  was  our  visitor; 
and  I  might  have  it  before  breakfast,  or  else  when  I  came  to 
say  "  good  night ! "  according  as  I  decided.  And  I  decided, 
every  night,  not  to  take  it  in  the  morning,  but  put  it  off  till 
the  evening  time,  and  have  the  pleasure  to  think  about,  through 
all  the  day  of  working.  But  when  my  darling  came  up  to  me 
in  the  early  daylight,  fresher  than  the  daystar,  and  with  no 
one  looking;  only  her  bright  eyes  smiling,  and  sweet  lips 
quite  ready,  was  it  likely  I  could  wait,  and  think  all  day  about 
it?  For  she  wore  a  frock  of  Annie's,  nicely  made  to  fit  her, 
taken  in  at  the  waist  and  curved  —  I  never  could  explain  it, 
not  being  a  mantua-maker ;  but  I  know  how  her  figure  looked 
in  it,  and  how  it  came  towards  me. 

But  this  is  neither  here  nor  there;  and  I  must  on  witli  my 
story.  Those  days  are  very  sacred  to  me;  and  if  I  speak 
lightly  of  them,  trust  me,  'tis  with  lip  alone ;  while  from  heart, 
reproach  peeps  sadly  at  the  flippant  tricks  of  mind. 

Although  it  was  the  longest  winter  ever  known  in  our  parts 
(never  having  ceased  to  freeze  for  a  single  night,  and  scarcely 
for  a  single  day,  from  the  middle  of  December  till  the  second 
week  in  March),  to  me  it  was  the  very  shortest  and  the  most 
delicious;  and  verily  I  do  believe  it  was  the  same  to  Lorna. 
But  when  the  Ides  of  March  were  come  (of  which  I  do  remem- 
ber something  dim  from  school,  and  something  clear  from  my 
favorite  writer),  lo  there  were  increasing  signals  of  a  change 
of  weather. 

One  leading  feature  of  that  long  cold,  and  a  thing  remarked 
by  every  one  (however  unobservant),  had  been  the  hollow 
moaning  sound  ever  present  in  the  air,  morning,  noon,  and 
night-time,  and  especially  at  night,  whether  any  wind  were 
stirring,  or  whether  it  were  a  perfect  calm.  Our  people  said 
that  it  was  a  witch,  cursing  all  the  country  from  the  caverns 
by  the  sea ;  and  that  frost  and  snow  would  last,  until  we  could 
catch  and  drown  her.  But  the  land  being  thoroughly  blocked 
with  snow,  and  the  inshore  parts  of  the  sea  with  ice  (floating 
in  great  fields  along).  Mother  Melldrum  (if  she  it  were)  had 
tlie  caverns  all  to  herself,  for  there  was  no  getting  at  her. 
And  speaking  of  the  sea  reminds  me  of  a  thing  reported  to  us, 
and  on  good  authority;  though  people  might  be  found  here- 
after wlio  would  not  believe  it,  unless  I  told  them  that,  from 
what  I  myself  beheld  of  the  channel,  I  place  perfect  faith  in 
it;  and  tliis  is,  tlia,t  a  dozen  sailors  at  the  beginning  of  March 
crossed  the  ice,  with  tlie  aid  of  poles,  from  Clevedonto  i'enarth, 
or  where  the  Holm  rocks  barred  the  flotage. 


30  LORNA   DOONE. 

But  now,  about  the  tenth  of  March,  that  miserable  moaning 
noise,  Avliich  liad  both  foregone  and  accompanied  the  rigor, 
died  away  from  out  the  air ;  and  we,  being  now  so  used  to  it, 
thought  at  first  that  we  must  be  deaf.  And  then  the  fog, 
which  had  hung  about  (even  in  full  sunshine),  vanished,  and 
the  shrouded  hills  shone  forth  with  brightness  manifold.  And 
now  the  sky  at  length  began  to  come  to  its  true  manner,  which 
we  had  not  seen  for  months,  a  mixture  (if  I  so  may  speak)  of 
various  expressions.  Whereas  till  now  from  Allhallows-tide, 
six  weeks  ere  the  great  frost  set  in,  the  heavens  had  worn  one 
heavy  mask  of  aslien  gray  when  clouded,  or  else  one  amethys- 
tine tinge  with  a  hazy  rim,  wlien  cloudless.  So  it  was  pleas- 
ant to  behold,  after  that  monotony,  the  fickle  sky  which  suits 
our  England,  though  abused  by  foreign  folk. 

And  soon  the  dappled  softening  sky  gave  some  earnest  of 
its  mood;  for  a  brisk  south  wind  arose,  and  the  blessed  rain 
came  driving ;  cold  indeed,  yet  most  refreshing  to  the  skin,  all 
parched  with  snow,  and  the  eyeballs  so  long  dazzled.  Neither 
was  the  lieart  more  sluggish  in  its  thankfulness  to  God. 
People  had  begun  to  think,  and  somebody  had  prophesied,  that 
we  should  have  no  spring  this  year,  no  seed-time,  and  no  har- 
vest; for  that  the  Lord  had  sent  a  judgment  on  this  country 
of  England,  and  the  nation  dwelling  in  it,  because  of  the 
wickedness  of  the  Court,  and  the  encouragement  shown  to 
Papists.  And  this  was  proved,  they  said,  by  what  had  hap- 
pened in  the  town  of  London;  Avhere,  for  more  than  a  fort- 
night, such  a  chill  of  darkness  lay,  that  no  man  might  behold 
his  neighbor,  even  across  the  narrowest  street;  and  where  the 
ice  upon  the  Thames  was  more  than  four  feet  thick,  and  crush- 
ing London  bridge  in  twain.  Now  to  these  prophets  I  paid  no 
heed,  believing  not  that  Providence  Avould  freeze  us  for  other 
people's  sins;  neither  seeing  how  England  could,  for  many 
generations,  have  enjoyed  good  sunshine,  if  Popery  meant 
frosts  and  fogs.  Besides,  why  could  not  Providence  settle 
the  business  once  for  all,  by  freezing  the  Pope  himself;  even 
though  (according  to  our  view)  he  were  destined  to  extremes 
of  heat,  together  with  all  who  followed  him? 

Not  to  meddle  with  that  subject,  being  beyond  my  judg- 
ment, let  me  tell  the  things  I  saw,  and  then  you  must  believe 
me.  The  wind,  of  course,  I  could  not  see,  not  having  the 
powers  of  a  pig;  but  I  could  see  the  laden  branches  of  the 
great  oaks  moving,  hoping  to  shake  off  the  load  packed  and 
saddled  on  them.  And  hereby  I  may  note  a  thing,  which 
some  one  may  explain  perhaps  in  the  after  ages,  when  people 


A    CHANGE  LONG   NEEDED.  31 

come  to  look  at  things.  This  is,  that  in  desperate  cold,  all 
the  trees  were  pulled  awry,  even  though  the  wind  had  scat- 
tered the  snow  burden  from  them.  Of  some  sorts  the  branches 
bended  downwards,  like  au  archway;  of  other  sorts  the  boughs 
curved  upwards,  like  a  red  deer's  frontlet.  This  I  know  no 
reason  ^  for ;  but  am  ready  to  swear  that  I  saw  it. 

Xow  when  the  first  of  the  rain  began,  a.nd  the  old  familiar 
softness  spread  upon  the  window  glass,  and  ran  a  little  way  in 
channels  (though  from  the  coldness  of  the  glass  it  froze  before 
reaching  the  bottom),  knowing  at  once  the  difference  from  the 
short  sharp  thud  of  snow,  we  all  ran  out,  and  tilled  our  eyes, 
and  filled  our  hearts,  with  gazing.  True,  the  snow  was  piled 
up  now  all  in  mountains  round  us ;  true,  the  air  was  still  so 
cold  that  our  breath  froze  on  the  doorway,  and  the  rain  was 
turned  to  ice,  wherever  it  struck  anything :  nevertheless  that 
it  was  rain  there  was  no  denying,  as  we  watched  it  across 
black  doorways,  and  could  see  no  sign  of  wliite.  Mother, 
who  had  made  up  her  mind  that  the  farm  was  not  worth  hav- 
ing, after  all  those  prophecies,  and  that  all  of  us  must  starve, 
and  holes  be  scratched  in  the  snow  for  us,  and  no  use  to  put 
up  a  tombstone  (for  our  church  had  been  shut  up  long  ago) 
mother  fell  upon  my  breast,  and  sobbed  that  I  was  the  clever- 
est fellow  ever  born  of  woman.  And  this  because  I  had  con- 
demned the  prophets  for  a  pack  of  fools;  not  seeing  how 
business  could  go  on,  if  people  stopped  to  hearken  to  them. 

Then  Lorna  came,  and  glorified  me,  for  I  had  predicted  a 
change  of  weather,  more  to  keep  their  spirits  up,  than  with 
real  hope  of  it;  and  then  came  Annie  blushing  shyly,  as  I 
looked  at  her,  and  told  her  that  Winnie  would  soon  have  four 
legs  now.  This  referred  to  some  stupid  joke  made  by  John 
Fry  or  somebody,  that  in  this  weather  a  man  had  no  legs,  and 
a  horse  had  only  two. 

But  as  the  rain  came  down  upon  us,  from  the  south-west 
wind,  and  we  could  not  have  enough  of  it,  even  putting  our 
tongues  to  catch  it,  as  little  children  might  do,  and  beginning 
to  talk  of  primroses ;  the  very  noblest  thing  of  all  was  to  hear, 
and  see,  the  gratitude  of  the  poor  beasts  yet  remaining,  and 

1  The  reason  is  very  simple,  as  all  nature's  reasons  are;  though  the 
subject  has  not  yot  been  iiiv('sti,2:ate(l  thoroughly.  In  some  trees  tlie  vas- 
cular tissue  is  more  open  on  the  u])pcr  side,  in  others  on  tlie  under  side, 
of  the  spreading  branches;  according  to  the  form  of  growth,  and  habit 
of  the  sap.  Hence  in  very  severe  cold,  when  the  vessels  (comparatively 
empty)  are  constricted,  sfime  have  more  power  of  contraction  on  the  uppei 
side,  and  some  upon  the  under.  —  Ed.  L.  D. 


32  LOENA   DOONE. 

the  few  surviving  birds.  From  the  cowhouse  lowing  came, 
more  than  of  fifty  milking  times ;  moo  and  moo,  and  a  turn- 
up noise  at  the  end  of  every  bellow,  as  if  from  the  very  heart 
of  kine.  Then  the  horses  in  the  stables,  packed  as  closely  as 
they  could  stick,  at  the  risk  of  kicking,  to  keep  the  warmth 
in  one  another,  and  their  spirits  up  by  discoursing  —  these 
began  with  one  accord  to  lift  up  their  voices,  snorting,  snaf- 
fling, whinnying,  and  neighing,  and  trotting  to  the  door  to 
know  when  they  should  have  work  again.  To  whom,  as  if  in 
answer,  came  the  feeble  bleating  of  the  sheep,  what  few,  by 
dint  of  greatest  care,  had  kept  their  fleeces  on  their  backs,  and 
their  four  legs  under  them. 

Neither  was  it  a  trifling  thing,  let  whoso  will  say  the  con- 
trary, to  behold  the  ducks  and  geese  marching  forth,  in  hand- 
some order,  from  their  beds  of  fern  and  straw.  What  a  goodly 
noise  they  kept,  what  a  flapping  of  their  wings,  and  a  jerking 
of  their  tails,  as  they  stood  right  wp,  and  tried  with  a  whistling 
in  their  throats  to  imitate  a  cockscrow !  And  then  how  dain- 
tily they  took  the  wet  upon  their  dusty  plumes,  and  ducked 
their  shoulders  to  it,  and  began  to  dress  themselves,  and  laid 
their  grooved  bills  on  the  snow,  and  dabbled  for  more  ooziness ! 

Lorna  had  never  seen,  I  dare  say,  anything  like  this  before, 
and  it  was  all  that  we  could  do  to  keep  her  from  rushing  forth, 
with  only  little  lambswool  shoes  on,  and  kissing  every  one  of 
them.  "Oh  the  dear  things,  oh  the  dear  things!"  she  kept 
saying  continually,  " how  wonderfully  clever  they  are!  Only 
look  at  that  one  with  his  foot  up,  giving  orders  to  the  others, 
John!" 

"And  I  must  give  orders  to  you,  my  darling,"  I  answered, 
gazing  on  her  face,  so  brilliant  with  excitement;  "and  that 
is,  that  you  come  in  at  once,  with  that  worrisome  cough  of 
yours;  and  sit  by  the  fire,  and  warm  yourself." 

"  Oh  no,  John.  Not  for  a  minute,  if  you  please,  good 
John.  I  want  to  see  the  snow  go  away,  and  the  green  mead- 
ows coming  forth.  And  here  comes  our  favorite  robin,  who 
has  lived  in  the  oven  so  long,  and  sung  us  a  song  every  morn- 
ing.    I  must  see  what  he  thinks  of  it." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  I  answered  very  shortly, 
being  only  too  glad  of  a  cause  for  having  her  in  my  arms 
again.  So  I  caught  her  up,  and  carried  her  in;  and  she  looked 
and  smiled  so  sweetly  at  me,  instead  of  pouting  (as  I  had 
feared)  that  I  found  myself  unable  to  go  very  fast  along  the 
passage.  And  I  set  her  there,  in  her  favorite  place,  by  the 
sweet-scented  wood-fire;  and  she  paid  me  porterage,  without 


A   CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  33 

my  even  asking  her;  and  for  all  the  beauty  of  the  rain,  I  was 
fain  to  stay  with  her;  until  our  Annie  came  to  say  that  my 
advice  was  wanted. 

Now  my  advice  was  never  much,  as  every  body  knew  quite 
well;  but  that  was  the  way  they  always  put  it,  when  they 
wanted  me  to  work  for  them.  And  in  truth,  it  was  time  for 
me  to  work;  not  for  others,  but  myself,  and  (as  I  always 
thought)  for  Lorna.  For  the  rain  was  now  coming  down  in 
earnest;  and  the  top  of  the  snow  being  frozen  at  last,  and 
glazed  as  hard  as  a  China  cup,  by  means  of  the  sun  and  frost 
afterwards,  all  the  rain  ran  right  away  from  the  steep  inclines, 
and  all  the  outlets  being  blocked  with  ice  set  up  like  tables,  it 
threatened  to  flood  every  thing.  Already  it  was  ponding  up, 
like  a  tide  advancing,  at  the  threshold  of  the  door,  from  which 
we  had  watched  the  duck-birds;  both  because  great  piles  of 
snow  trended  in  that  direction,  in  spite  of  all  our  scraping, 
and  also  that  the  gulley  hole,  where  the  water  of  the  shoot 
went  out  (I  mean  when  it  was  water)  now  was  choked  with 
lumps  of  ice,  as  big  as  a  man's  body.  For  the  "shoot,"  as 
we  called  our  little  runnel  of  everlasting  water,  never  known 
to  freeze  before,  and  always  ready  for  any  man  either  to  wash 
his  hands,  or  drink,  where  it  spouted  from  a  trough  of  bark, 
set  among  white  flint-stones;  this  at  last  had  given  in,  and  its 
music  ceased  to  lull  us,  as  we  lay  in  bed. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  managed  to  drain  off  this  threaten- 
ing flood,  by  opening  the  old  sluice-hole:  but  I  had  much 
harder  work  to  keep  the  stables  and  the  cow-house,  and  the 
other  sheds,  from  flooding.  For  we  have  a  sapient  practice 
(and  I  never  saw  the  conti-ary,  round  about  our  parts,  I  mean) 
of  keeping  all  rooms  underground,  so  that  you  step  down  to 
them.  We  say  that  thus  we  keep  them  warmer,  both  for 
cattle  and  for  men,  in  the  time  of  winter,  and  cooler  in  the 
summer-time.  This  I  Avill  not  contradict,  though  having  my 
own  opinion;  but  it  seems  to  me  to  be  a  relic  of  the  time, 
when  people  in  the  western  countries  lived  in  caves  beneath 
the  ground,  and  blocked  the  moutlis  with  neat-skins. 

Let  that  (question  still  abide,  for  men  who  study  ancient 
times  to  inform  me,  if  they  will :  all  I  know  is,  that  now  we 
had  no  blessings  for  the  system.  If  after  all  tlieir  cold  and 
starving,  our  weak  cattle  now  should  have  to  stand  up  to  their 
knees  in  water,  it  would  be  certain  death  to  them;  and  we 
had  lost  enougli  already  to  make  us  poor  for  a  long  time ;  not 
to  speak  of  our  kind  love  for  them.  And  I  do  assure  you,  I 
loved  Kfjme  liorses,  and  even  some  cows  for  that  matter,  as  if 
VOL.  n.  —  3 


34  LOENA   DOONE. 

they  had  been  my  blood-relations;  knowing  as  I  did  their 
virtues.  And  some  of  these  were  lost  to  us;  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  think  of  them.  Therefore  I  worked  hard  all  night,  to 
try  and  save  the  rest  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

SQUIRE   FAGGUS    MAKES    SOME   iaCK'J"    HITS. 

Through  that  season  of  bitter  frost,  the  red  deer  of  the 
forest,  having  nothing  to  feed  upon,  and  no  shelter  to  rest  in, 
had  grown  accustomed  to  our  ricks  of  corn,  and  hay,  and 
clover.  There  we  might  see  a  hundred  o±  them,  almost  any 
morning,  come  for  warmth,  and  food,  and  comfort,  and  scarce 
willing  to  move  away.  And  many  of  them  were  so  tame,  that 
they  quietly  presented  themselves  at  our  back  door,  and  stood 
there  with  their  coats  quite  stiff,  and  their  flanks  drawn  in 
and  panting,  and  icicles  sometimes  on  their  chins,  and  their 
great  eyes  fastened  wistfully  upon  any  merciful  person;  crav- 
ing for  a  bit  of  food,  and  a  drink  of  water.  I  suppose  that 
they  had  not  sense  enough  to  chew  the  snow  and  melt  it;  at 
any  rate,  all  the  springs  being  frozen,  and  rivers  hidden  out 
of  sight,  these  poor  things  suffered  even  more  from  thirst  than 
they  did  from  hunger. 

But  now  there  was  no  fear  of  thirst,  and  more  chance  in- 
deed of  drowning;  for  a  heavy  gale  of  wind  arose,  with  vio- 
lent rain  from  the  south-west,  which  lasted  almost  without  a 
pause,  for  three  nights  and  two  days.  At  first,  the  rain  made 
no  impression  on  the  bulk  of  snow,  but  ran  from  every  sloping 
surface,  and  froze  on  every  flat  one,  through  the  coldness  of 
the  earth;  and  so  it  became  impossible  for  any  man  to  keep 
his  legs,  without  the  help  of  a  shodden  staff.  After  a  good 
while,  however,  the  air  growing  very  much  warmer,  this  state 
of  things  began  to  change,  and  a  worse  one  to  succeed  it;  for 
now  the  snow  came  thundering  down  from  roof,  and  rock,  and 
ivied  tree,  and  floods  began  to  roar  and  foam  in  every  trough 
and  gulley.  The  drifts,  that  had  been  so  white  and  fair, 
looked  yellow,  and  smirched,  and  muddy,  and  lost  their  grace- 
ful curves,  and  moulded  lines  and  airyness.  But  the  strang- 
est sight  of  all  to  me  was  in  the  bed  of  streams,  and  brooks, 
and  especially  of  the  Lynn  river.  It  was  worth  going  miles 
to  behold  such  a  thing,  for  a  man  migiit  never  liave  the  chance 
again. 


SQUIRE  FAGGUS  MAKES   SOME  LUCKY  HITS.        35 

Vast  drifts  of  snow  had  filled  the  valley,  and  piled  above 
the  river-course,  fifty  feet  high  in  many  places,  and  in  some 
as  much  as  a  hundred.  These  had  frozen  over  the  top,  and 
glanced  the  rain  away  from  them,  and  being  sustained  by  rock, 
and  tree,  spanned  the  Avater  mightily.  But  meanwhile  the 
waxing  flood,  SAVollen  from  every  moorland  hollow,  and  from 
every  spouting  crag,  had  dashed  away  all  icy  fetters,  and  was 
rolling  gloriously.  Under  white  fantastic  arches,  and  long 
tunnels  freaked  and  fretted,  and  between  pellucid  pillars 
jagged  with  nodding  architraves,  the  red  impetuous  torrent 
rushed,  and  the  brown  foam  whirled  and  fiaslied.  I  was  half 
inclined  to  jump  in,  and  swim  through  such  glorious  scenery; 
for  nothing  used  to  please  me  more  than  swimming  in  a 
flooded  river.  But  I  thought  of  the  rocks,  and  I  thought  of 
the  cramp,  and  more  than  all,  of  Lorna;  and  so,  between  one 
thing  and  another,  I  let  it  roll  on  without  me. 

It  was  now  high  time  to  Avork  very  hard;  both  to  make  up 
for  the  farm-work  lost  during  the  months  of  frost  and  snow, 
and  also  to  be  ready  for  a  great  and  vicious  attack  from  the 
Doones,  who  would  burn  us  in  our  beds,  at  the  earliest  oppor- 
tunity. Of  farm-AVork  there  Avas  little  yet  for  even  the  most 
zealous  man  to  begin  to  lay  his  hand  to:  because  when  the 
ground  appeared  througli  the  crust  of  bubbled  snoAv  (as  at  last 
it  did,  though  not  as  my  Lorna  had  expected,  at  the  first  few 
drops  of  rain)  it  was  all  so  soaked  and  sodden,  and,  as  Ave  call 
it,  "mucksy,"  that  to  meddle  Avith  it  in  any  way  was  to  do 
more  harm  than  good.  Nevertheless,  there  was  yard-Avork, 
and  house-Avork,  and  tendance  of  stock,  enough  to  save  any 
man  from  idleness. 

As  for  Lorna,  she  would  come  out.  There  was  no  keeping 
her  in  the  house.  She  had  taken  up  some  peculiar  notion, 
that  Ave  were  doing  more  for  her  than  she  had  any  right  to, 
and  that  she  must  earn  her  living  by  the  hard  work  of  her 
hands.  It  was  quite  in  vain  to  tell  her  that  she  Avas  expected 
to  do  nothing,  and  far  Avorse  than  A^ain  (for  it  made  her  cry 
sadly)  if  any  one  assured  her  that  she  could  do  no  good  at  all. 
She  even  began  upon  mother's  garden,  liefore  the  snoAV  Avas 
clean  gone  from  it,  and  soAvcd  a  beautiful  roAv  of  j)eas,  every 
onf^  of  which  the  mice  ate. 

But  though  it  Avas  very  pretty  to  Avatch  her  Avorking  for  her 
very  life,  as  if  the  maintenance  of  the  houseliold  hung  upon 
her  labors,  yet  I  was  grieved  for  many  reasons,  and  so  Avas 
mother  also.  In  the  first  place,  she  was  too  fair  and  dainty 
for  this  rough,  rude  Avork;  and  though  it  made  her  cheeks  so 


36  LOENA   BOONE. 

bright,  it  surely  must  be  bad  for  her,  to  get  her  little  feet  so 
wet.  Moreover,  we  could  not  bear  the  idea  that  she  should 
labor  for  her  keep;  and  again  (which  was  the  worst  of  all 
things),  mother's  garden  lay  exposed  to  a  dark  deceitful  cop- 
pice, where  a  man  might  lurk,  and  watch  all  the  fair  gar- 
dener's doings.  It  was  true  that  none  could  get  at  her  thence, 
while  the  brook  which  ran  between  poured  so  great  a  torrent. 
Still  the  distance  was  but  little  for  a  gun  to  carry,  if  any  one 
could  be  brutal  enough  to  point  a  gun  at  Lorna.  I  thought 
that  none  could  be  found  to  do  it;  but  mother,  having  more 
experience,  was  not  so  certain  of  mankind. 

Now  in  spite  of  the  floods,  and  the  sloughs  being  out,  and 
the  state  of  the  roads  most  perilous.  Squire  Faggus  came  at 
last,  riding  his  famous  strawberry  mare.  There  was  a  great 
ado  between  him  and  Annie,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  after 
some  four  months  of  parting.  And  so  we  left  them  alone 
awhile  to  coddle  over  their  raptures.  But  Avhen  they  were 
tired  of  that  or  at  least,  had  time  enough  to  be  so,  mother 
and  I  went  in,  to  know  what  news  Tom  had  brought  with  him. 
Though  he  did  not  seem  to  want  us  yet,  he  made  himself 
agreeable ;  and  so  we  sent  Annie  to  cook  the  dinner  while  her 
sweetheart  should  tell  us  every  thing. 

Tom  Faggus  had  very  good  news  to  tell,  and  he  told  it  with 
such  force  of  expression  as  made  us  laugh  very  heartily.  He 
had  taken  up  his  purchase  from  old  Sir  Roger  Bassett  of  a 
nice  bit  of  land,  to  the  south  of  the  moors,  and  in  the  parish 
of  Holland.  When  the  lawyers  knew  thoroughly  who  he  was, 
and  how  he  had  made  his  money,  they  behaved  uncommonly 
well  to  him,  and  showed  great  sympathy  with  his  pursuits. 
He  put  them  up  to  a  thing  or  two ;  and  they  poked  him  in  the 
ribs,  and  laughed,  and  said  that  he  was  quite  a  boy;  but  of 
tlie  right  sort  none  the  less.  And  so  they  made  old  Squire 
Bassett  pay  the  bill  for  both  sides ;  and  all  he  got  for  three 
hundred  acres  was  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds;  though  Tom 
had  paid  five  hundred.  But  lawyers  know  that  this  must  be 
so,  in  spite  of  all  their  endeavors;  and  the  old  gentleman, 
who  now  expected  to  find  a  bill  for  him  to  pay,  almost  thought 
himself  a  rogue,  for  getting  any  thing  out  of  them. 

It  is  true  that  the  land  was  poor  and  wild,  and  the  soil  ex- 
ceeding shallow ;  lying  on  the  slope  of  rock,  and  bvirned  up  in 
hot  summers.  But  with  us,  hot  summers  are  things  known 
by  tradition  only  (as  this  great  winter  may  be);  we  generally 
have  more  moisture,  especially  in  July,  than  we  well  know 
what  to  do  with.     I  have  known  a  fog  for  a  fortnight,  at  the 


SQUIRE  FAGGUS  MAKES   SOME  LUCKY  HITS.        37 

summer  solstice,  and  farmers  talking  in  church  about  it,  when 
they  ought  to  be  praying.  But  it  always  contrives  to  come 
right  in  the  end,  as  other  visitations  do,  if  we  take  them  as 
true  visits,  and  receive  them  kindly. 

iSTow  this  farm  of  Squire  Faggus  (as  he  truly  now  had  a  right 
to  be  called)  was  of  the  very  finest  pasture,  when  it  got  good 
store  of  rain.  And  Tom,  who  had  ridden  the  Devonshire 
roads  with  many  a  reeking  jacket,  knew  right  well  that  he 
might  trust  the  climate  for  that  matter.  The  herbage  was  of 
the  very  sweetest,  and  the  shortest,  and  the  closest,  having 
perhaps  from  ten  to  eighteen  inches  of  wholesome  soil  between 
it  and  the  solid  rock.  Tom  saw  at  once  what  it  was  fit  for  — 
the  breeding  of  fine  cattle. 

Being  such  a  hand  as  he  was,  at  making  the  most  of  every 
thing,  both  his  own  and  other  people's  (although  so  free  in 
scattering,  when  the  humor  lay  upon  him),  he  had  actually 
turned  to  his  own  advantage  that  extraordinary  weatlier,  whiclx 
had  so  impoverished  every  one  around  him.  For  he  taught 
his  Winnie  (who  knew  his  meaning  as  well  as  any  child  could, 
and  obeyed  not  only  his  word  of  mouth,  but  every  glance  he 
gave  her),  to  go  forth  in  the  snowy  evenings,  when  horses  are 
seeking  every  where  (be  they  wild  or  tame)  for  fodder  and  for 
shelter;  and  to  whinny  to  the  forest  ponies,  miles  away  from 
home,  perhaps,  and  lead  them  all,  with  rare  appetite  and 
promise  of  abundance,  to  her  master's  homestead.  He  shod 
good  Winnie  in  such  a  manner,  that  she  could  not  sink  in  the 
snow;  and  he  clad  her  over  the  loins  with  a  sheep-skin,  dyed 
to  her  own  color,  Avhich  the  wild  horses  were  never  tired  of 
coming  up  and  sniffing  at;  taking  it  for  an  especial  gift,  and 
proof  of  inspiration.  And  Winnie  never  came  home  at  night 
without  at  least  a  score  of  ponies  trotting  shyly  after  her, 
tossing  their  heads  and  their  tails  in  turn,  and  making  believe 
to  be  very  wild,  nltliough  hard  pinched  liy  famine.  Of  course, 
Tom  would  get  them  all  into  his  pound  in  about  five  minutes; 
for  he  himself  could  neigh  in  a  manner  which  went  to  the 
heart  of  the  wildest  horse.  And  tlien  he  fed  them  well,  and 
turned  tliem  into  his  gi'eat  cattle-pen,  to  abide  their  time  for 
breaking,  when  the  snow  and  frost  sliould  be  over. 

He  had  gotten  more  than  three  hundred  now,  in  this  saga- 
cious manner;  and  lie  said  it  was  the  finest  sight  to  see  their 
mode  of  carrying  on.  How  they  would  snort,  and  stamp,  and 
fume,  and  prick  their  ears,  and  rush  backwards,  and  lash 
themselves  witli  tlieir  long  rough  tails,  and  sluike  their  jagged 
manes,  and  scream,  and  fall  upon  one  another,   if  a  strange 


38  LORNA   DOONE. 

man  came  anigh  them.  But  as  for  feeding  time,  Tom  said  it 
was  better  than  fifty  plays  to  watch  them,  and  the  tricks  they 
were  up  to,  to  cheat  their  feeders,  and  one  another.  I  asked 
him  how  on  earth  he  had  managed  to  get  fodder,  in  such  im- 
passable weather,  for  such  a  herd  of  horses ;  but  he  said  that 
they  lived  upon  straw  and  sawdust ;  and  he  knew  that  I  did 
not  believe  him,  any  more  than  about  his  star-shavings.  And 
this  was  just  the  thing  he  loved  —  to  mystify  honest  people, 
and  be  a  great  deal  too  knowing.  However,  I  may  judge  him 
harshly,  because  I  myself  tell  every  thing. 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant  to  do  with  all  that  enormous  lot 
of  horses,  and  why  he  had  not  exerted  his  wits  to  catch  the 
red  deer  as  well.  He  said  that  the  latter  would  have  been 
against  the  laws  of  venery,  and  might  have  brought  him  into 
trouble ;  but  as  for  disposing  of  his  stud,  it  would  give  him 
little  difficulty.  He  would  break  them,  when  the  spring 
weather  came  on,  and  deal  with  them  as  they  required,  and 
keep  the  handsomest  for  breeding.  The  rest  he  would  de- 
spatch to  London,  where  he  knew  plenty  of  horse-dealers ;  and 
he  doubted  not  that  they  would  fetch  him  as  much  as  ten 
pounds  apiece  all  round,  being  now  in  great  demand.  I  told 
him  I  wished  that  he  might  get  it:  but  as  it  proved  after- 
wards, he  did. 

Then  he  pressed  us  both  on  another  point,  the  time  for  his 
marriage  to  Annie :  and  mother  looked  at  me  to  say  when,  and 
I  looked  back  at  mother.  However,  knowing  something  of  the 
world,  and  unable  to  make  any  further  objection,  by  reason  of 
his  prosperity,  I  said  that  we  must  even  do  as  the  fashionable 
people  did,  and  allow  the  maid  herself  to  settle,  when  she 
Avould  leave  home  and  all.  And  this  I  spoke  with  a  very  bad 
grace,  being  perhaps  of  an  ancient  cast,  and  over  fond  of  hon- 
esty —  I  mean,  of  course,  among  lower  people. 

But  Tom  paid  little  heed  to  this,  knowing  the  world  a  great 
deal  better  than  ever  I  could  pretend  to  do ;  and  being  ready 
to  take  a  thing,  upon  which  he  had  set  his  mind,  whether  it 
came  with  a  good  grace,  or  whether  it  came  with  a  bad  one. 
And  seeing  that  it  would  be  awkward  to  provoke  my  anger,  he 
left  the  room  before  more  words,  to  submit  himself  to  Annie. 

Upon  this  I  went  in  search  of  Lorna,  to  tell  her  of  our 
cousin's  arrival,  and  to  ask  whether  she  would  think  fit  to  see 
him,  or  to  dine  by  herself  that  day;  for  she  should  do  exactly 
as  it  pleased  her  in  every  thing,  while  remaining  still  our 
guest.  But  I  rather  wished  tliat  she  might  choose  not  to  sit 
in  Tom's  company,  though  she  might  be  introduced  to  him. 


SQUIEE  FAGGUS  MAKES   S03IE  LUCKY  HITS.        39 

Xot  but  what  he  could  behave  quite  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
much  better  as  regarded  elegance  and  assurance,  only  that  his 
honesty  had  not  been  as  one  might  desire.  But  Lorna  had 
some  curiosity  to  know  what  this  famous  man  was  like,  and 
declared  that  she  Avould  by  all  means  have  the  pleasure  of 
dining  with  him,  if  he  did  not  object  to  her  company,  on  the 
ground  of  the  Doones'  dishonesty;  moreover,  she  said  that 
it  would  seem  a  most  foolish  air  on  her  part,  and  one  which 
would  cause  the  greatest  pain  to  Annie,  who  had  been  so  good 
to  her,  if  she  should  refuse  to  sit  at  table  with  a  man  who 
held  the  King's  pardon,  and  was  now  a  pattern  of  honesty. 

Against  this  I  had  not  a  word  to  say;  and  could  not  help 
acknowledging  in  my  heart  that  she  was  right,  as  well  as 
wise,  in  her  decision.  And  afterwards  I  discovered  that 
mother  would  have  been  much  displeased,  if  she  had  decided 
otherwise. 

Accordingly  she  turned  away,  with  one  of  her  very  sweetest 
smiles  (whose  beauty  none  can  describe),  saying  that  she  must 
not  meet  a  man  of  such  fashion  and  renown,  in  her  common 
gardening  frock;  but  must  try  to  look  as  nice  as  she  could,  if 
only  in  honor  of  dear  Annie.  And  truth  to  tell,  when  she 
came  to  dinner,  every  thing  about  her  was  the  neatest,  and 
the  prettiest,  that  can  possibly  be  imagined.  She  contrived 
to  match  the  colors  so,  to  suit  one  another  and  her  own,  and 
yet  with  a  certain  delicate  harmony  of  contrast,  and  the  shape 
of  every  thing  was  so  nice,  that  when  she  came  into  the  room, 
with  a  crown  of  winning  modesty  upon  the  consciousness  of 
beauty,  I  was  quite  as  proud  as  if  the  Queen  of  England 
entered. 

My  mother  could  not  help  remarking,  though  she  knew  that 
it  was  not  mannerly,  how  like  a  princess  Lorna  looked,  now 
she  had  her  best  tilings  on;  but  two  things  caught  Squire 
Faggus'  eyes,  after  he  had  made  a  most  gallant  bow,  and  re- 
ceived a  most  graceful  courtesy ;  and  he  kept  his  bright  bold 
gaze  upon  them,  first  on  one  and  then  on  the  otlier,  until  niy 
darling  was  hot  with  bluslies,  and  I  was  ready  to  knock  him 
down,  if  he  had  not  b(!eu  our  visitor.  But  here  again  I  should 
have  been  wrong,  as  I  was  apt  to  be  in  those  days ;  for  Tom 
intended  no  liarin  whatever,  and  his  gaze  was  of  pure  curi- 
osity; though  Annie  lierself  was  vexed  with  it.  The  two 
objects  of  his  close  regard  were,  first,  and  most  worthily, 
Lorna's  face,  and  secondly,  the  ancient  necklace  restored  to 
her  Ijy  Sir  Elisor  Doone. 

Now  wishing   to   save   my  darling's  comfort,  and  to  krcp 


40  LOBNA   BOONE. 

things  quiet,  I  shouted  out  that  dinner  was  ready,  so  that  half 
the  parish  could  hear  me ;  upon  which  my  mother  laughed,  and 
chid  me,  and  despatched  her  guest  before  her.  And  a  very 
good  dinner  we  made,  I  remember,  and  a  very  happy  one; 
attending  to  the  women  first,  as  now  is  the  manner  of  eating; 
except  among  the  workmen.  With  them,  of  course,  it  is  need- 
ful that  the  man  (who  has  his  hours  fixed)  should  be  served 
first,  and  make  the  utmost  of  his  time  for  feeding;  while  the 
women  may  go  on,  as  much  as  ever  they  please,  afterwards. 
But  with  us,  who  are  not  bound  to  time,  there  is  no  such  reason 
to  be  quoted;  and  the  women  being  the  weaker  vessels,  should 
be  the  first  to  begin  to  fill.     And  so  we  always  arranged  it. 

Now  though  our  Annie  was  a  graceful  maid,  and  Lizzie  a 
very  learned  one,  you  should  have  seen  how  differently  Lorna 
managed  her  dining :  she  never  took  more  than  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mouthful  at  a  time,  and  she  never  appeared  to  be  chewing 
that,  although  she  must  have  done  so.  Indeed  she  appeared 
to  dine,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  consequence,  and  as  if  she 
could  think  of  other  things  more  than  of  her  business.  All 
this,  and  her  own  manner  of  eating,  I  described  to  Eliza  once, 
when  I  wanted  to  vex  her  for  something  very  spiteful  that  she 
had  said;  and  I  never  succeeded  so  well  before,  for  the  girl 
was  quite  outrageous,  having  her  own  perception  of  it,  which 
made  my  observation  ten  times  as  bitter  to  her.  And  I  am 
not  sure  but  what  she  ceased  to  like  poor  Lorna  from  that  day : 
and  if  so,  I  was  quite  paid  out,  as  I  well  deserved,  for  my  bit 
of  satire. 

For  it  strikes  me  that  of  all  human  dealings,  satire  is  the 
very  lowest,  and  most  mean  and  common.  It  is  the  equiva- 
lent in  words,  for  what  bullying  is  in  deeds;  and  no  more 
bespeaks  a  clever  man,  than  the  other  does  a  brave  one. 
These  two  wretched  tricks  exalt  a  fool  in  his  own  low  esteem, 
but  never  in  his  neighbor's;  for  the  deep  common  sense  of  our 
nature  tells  that  no  man  of  a  genial  heart,  or  of  any  spread  of 
mind,  can  take  pride  in  either.  And  though  a  good  man  may 
commit  the  one  fault  or  the  other,  now  and  then,  by  way  of 
outlet,  he  is  sure  to  have  compunctions  soon,  and  to  scorn 
himself  more  than  the  sufferer. 

Now  when  the  young  maidens  were  gone  —  for  we  had  quite 
a  high  dinner  of  fashion  that  day,  with  Betty  Muxworthy 
waiting,  and  Gwenny  Carfax  at  the  gravy, —  and  only  mother, 
and  Tom,  and  I  remained  at  the  white  deal  table,  with  brandy, 
and  schnapps,  and  hot  water  jugs ;  Squire  Faggus  said  quite 
suddenly,  and  perhaps  on  purpose  to  take  us  aback,  in  case  of 
our  hiding  any  thing  — 


SQUIRE  FAGGUS  MAKES   SOME  LUCKY  HITS.        41 

"  What  do  you  know  of  the  history  of  that  beautiful  maiden, 
good  mother?" 

''Xot  half  so  much  as  my  son  does,"  mother  answered,  with 
a  soft  smile  at  me :  "  and  when  John  does  not  choose  to  tell  a 
thing,  wild  horses  will  not  pull  it  out  of  him." 

"  That  is  not  at  all  like  me,  mother, "  I  replied  rather  sadly ; 
"you  know  almost  every  word  about  Lorna,  quite  as  well  as 
I  do." 

''  Almost  every  word,  I  believe,  John ;  for  you  never  tell  a 
falsehood.  But  the  few  unknown  may  be  of  all  the  most  im- 
portant to  me." 

To  this  I  made  no  answer,  for  fear  of  going  beyond  the 
truth,  or  else  of  making  mischief.  Not  that  I  had,  or  wished 
to  have,  any  mystery  with  mother;  neither  was  there,  in  purest 
truth,  any  mystery  in  the  matter;  to  the  utmost  of  my  knowl- 
edge. And  the  only  things  that  I  had  kept  back,  solely  for 
mother's  comfort,  were  the  death  of  poor  Lord  Alan  Brandir 
(if  indeed  he  were  dead)  and  the  connection  of  Marwood  de 
Whichehalse  with  the  dealings  of  the  Doones,  and  the  threats 
of  Carver  Doone  against  my  own  prosperity;  and,  may  be,  one 
or  two  little  things,  harrowing  more  tiian  edifying. 

"Come,  come,"  said  Master  Faggus,  smiling  very  pleasantly, 
"  you  two  understand  each  other,  if  any  two  on  earth  do.  Ah, 
if  I  had  only  had  a  mother,  how  different  I  might  have  been !  " 
And  with  that  he  sighed,  in  the  tone  which  always  overcame 
mother  upon  that  subject,  and  had  something  to  do  with  his 
getting  Annie ;  and  then  he  produced  his  pretty  box,  full  of 
rolled  tobacco,  and  offered  me  one,  as  I  now  had  joined  the 
goodly  company  of  smokers.  So  I  took  it,  and  watched  what 
he  did  with  his  own,  lest  I  might  go  wrong  about  mine. 

But  when  our  cylinders  were  both  lighted,  and  I  enjoying 
mine  wonderfully,  and  astonishing  mother  by  my  skill,  Tom 
Faggus  told  us  that  he  was  sure  he  had  seen  my  Lorna's  face 
before,  many  and  many  years  ago,  when  she  was  quite  a  little 
child,  but  he  Qould  not  remember  wliere  it  was,  or  any  thing 
more  about  it  at  present;  though  he  would  try  to  do  so  after- 
wards. He  could  not  be  mistaken,  he  said,  for  he  had  noticed 
her  eyes  especially;  and  had  never  seen  such  eyes  before, 
neither  again,  until  this  day.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever 
ventured  into  the  Doone-valley;  but  he  shook  his  head,  and 
replied  that  he  valued  his  life  a  deal  too  much  for  that.  Then 
we  jmt  it  to  him,  wliether  anything  might  assist  his  memory; 
but  he  said  that  he  knew  not  of  aught  to  do  so,  unless  it  were 
another  glass  of  schnapps. 


42  LOTiNA   BOONE. 

This  being  provided,  lie  grew  very  wise,  and  told  us  clearly 
and  candidly  that  we  were  both  very  foolish.  For  he  said 
that  we  were  keeping  Lorna,  at  the  risk  not  only  of  our  stock, 
and  the  house  above  our  heads,  but  also  of  our  precious  lives ; 
and  after  all  was  she  worth  it,  although  so  very  beautiful? 
Upon  which  I  told  him,  with  indignation,  that  her  beauty  was 
the  least  part  of  her  goodness,  and  that  I  would  thank  him 
for  his  opinion,  when  I  had  requested  it. 

"  Bravo,  our  John  Ridd !  "  he  answered :  "  fools  will  be  fools 
till  the  end  of  the  chapter :  and  I  might  be  as  big  a  one,  if  I 
were  in  thy  shoes,  John.  Nevertheless,  in  the  name  of  God, 
don't  let  that  helpless  child  go  about,  with  a  thing  worth  half 
the  county  on  her." 

"She  is  worth  all  the  county  herself,"  said  I,  "and  all  Eng- 
land put  together:  but  she  has  nothing  worth  half  a  rick  of  hay 
upon  her ;  for  the  ring  I  gave  her  cost  only "  —  and  here  I 
stopped,  for  mother  was  looking,  and  I  never  would  tell  her 
liOAv  much  it  had  cost  me;  though  she  had  tried  fifty  times  to 
find  out. 

"Tush,  the  ring!  "  Tom  Faggus  cried,  with  a  contempt  that 
inoved  me;  "  I  would  never  have  stopped  a  man  for  that.  But 
the  necklace,  you  great  oaf,  the  necklace  is  worth  all  your 
farm  put  together,  and  your  Uncle  Ben's  fortune  to  the  back 
of  it;  ay,  and  all  the  town  of  Dulverton." 

"  What, "  said  I,  "  that  common  glass  thing,  which  she  has 
had  from  her  childhood !  " 

"  Glass  indeed!  They  are  the  finest  brilliants  ever  I  set  eyes 
on:  and  I  have  handled  a  good  many." 

"Surely,"  cried  mother,  now  flushing  as  red  as  Tom's  own 
cheeks,  with  excitement,  "you  must  be  wrong,  or  the  young 
mistress  would  herself  have  known  it." 

I  was  greatly  pleased  with  my  mother,  for  calling  Lorna 
"the  yoiing  mistress : "  it  was  not  done  for  the  sake  of  her  dia- 
monds, whether  they  were  glass  or  not;  but  because  she  felt, 
as  I  had  done,  that  Tom  Faggus,  a  man  of  no  birth  whatever, 
was  speaking  beyond  his  mark,  in  calling  a  lady  like  Lorna  a 
"  helpless  child ;  "  as  well  as  in  his  general  tone,  which  dis- 
played no  deference.  He  might  have  been  used  to  the  quality, 
in  the  way  of  stopping  their  coaches,  or  roystering  at  hotels 
with  them:  but  he  never  had  met  a  high  lady  before,  in 
equalit}^,  and  upon  virtue ;  and  we  both  felt  that  he  ought  to 
have  known  it,  and  to  have  thanked  us  for  the  opportunity ;  in 
a  word,  to  have  behaved  a  great  deal  more  humbly  than  he 
had  even  tried  to  do. 


JEREMY  IN  BANGER.  43 

"Trust  me,"  answered  Tom,  in  his  loftiest  manner,  whicli 
Annie  said  was  "so  noble,"  but  which  seemed  to  me  rather 
flashy,  "trust  me,  good  mother,  and  simple  John,  for  knowing 
brilliants,  when  I  see  them.  I  would  have  stopped  an  eight- 
horse  coach,  with  four  carabined  outriders,  for  such  a  booty 
as  that.  But  alas,  those  days  are  over :  those  were  days  worth 
living  in.  Ah,  I  never  shall  know  the  like  again.  How  iine 
it  was  b}-  moonlight !  " 

"  Master  Faggus, "  began  my  mother,  with  a  manner  of  some 
dignity,  such  as  she  could  sometimes  use,  by  right  of  her 
integrity,  and  thorough  kindness  to  every  one,  "this  is  not 
the  tone  in  which  you  have  hitherto  spoken  to  me  about  your 
former  pursuits  and  life.  I  fear  that  the  spirits  "  —  but  here 
she  stopped,  because  the  spirits  were  her  own,  and  Tom  was 
our  visitor  —  "  what  I  mean,  INlaster  Faggus,  is  this :  you  have 
won  my  daughter's  heart  somehow;  and  you  won  my  consent 
to  the  matter,  through  your  honest  sorrow,  and  manly  under- 
taking to  lead  a  different  life,  and  toucli  no  property  but  your 
own.  Annie  is  my  eldest  daughter,  and  the  child  of  a  most 
upright  man.  I  love  her  best  of  all  on  earth,  next  to  my  boy 
John  here  "  —  here  mother  gave  me  a  mighty  squeeze,  to  be 
sure  that  she  would  liave  me  at  least  —  "  and  I  will  not  risk 
my  Annie's  life,  with  a  man  who  yearns  for  the  higliway." 

Having  made  this  very  long  speech  (for  her),  mother  came 
home  upon  my  shoulder,  and  wept  so  that  (but  for  heeding 
her)  I  would  have  taken  Tom  by  the  nose,  and  thrown  him, 
and  Winnie  after  him,  over  our  farmyard  gate.  For  I  am  vio- 
lent when  roused;  and  freely  hereby  acknowledge  it;  though 
even  my  enemies  will  own  that  it  takes  a  great  deal  to  rouse 
me.  But  I  do  consider  the  grief,  and  tears  (when  justly 
caused),  of  my  dearest  friends,  to  be  a  great  deal  to  rouse  me. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

JEREMY    IN    DANGER. 

NoTiiiNG  very  long  abides;  as  the  greatest  of  all  writers  (in 
whose  (extent  I  am  for  ever  lost  in  raptured  wonder,  and  yet 
for  ever  quite  at  home,  as  if  his  heart  were  mine,  although  his 
brains  so  different),  in  a  word,  as  Mr.  William  Shak(>s))eare, 
in  ev(!ry  (me  of  his  works  insists,  with  a  liumored  melauclioly. 
And  if  my  journey  to  Loudon  led  to  nothing  else  of  advance- 


44  LORN  A   DOONE. 

ment,  it  took  me  a  hundred  years  in  front  of  what  I  might  else 
have  been,  by  the  most  simple  accident. 

Two  women  were  scolding  one  another  across  the  road,  very 
violently,  both  from  upstair  windows ;  and  I  in  my  hurry  for 
quiet  life,  and  not  knowing  what  might  come  down  upon  me, 
quickened  my  step  for  the  nearest  corner.  But  suddenly 
something  fell  on  my  head;  and  at  first  I  was  afraid  to  look, 
especially  as  it  weighed  heavily.  But  hearing  no  breakage  of 
ware,  and  only  the  other  scold  laughing  heartily,  I  turned  me 
about  and  espied  a  book,  which  one  had  cast  at  the  other, 
hoping  to  break  her  window.  So  I  took  the  book,  and  ten- 
dered it  at  the  door  of  the  house  from  which  it  had  fallen ;  but 
the  watchman  came  along  just  then,  and  the  man  at  the  door 
declared  that  it  never  came  from  their  house,  and  begged  me 
to  say  no  more.  This  I  promised  readily,  never  wishing  to 
make  mischief;  and  I  said,  "Good  sir,  now  take  the  book; 
and  I  will  go  on  to  my  business."  But  he  answered  that  he 
would  do  no  such  thing;  for  the  book  alone,  being  hurled  so 
hard,  would  convict  liis  people  of  a  lewd  assault,  and  he  begged 
me,  if  I  would  do  a  good  turn,  to  put  the  book  under  my  coat 
and  go.  And  so  I  did;  in  part  at  least.  For  I  did  not  put 
the  book  under  my  coat,  but  went  along  with  it  openly,  look- 
ing for  any  to  challenge  it.  Now  this  book,  so  acquired,  has 
been  not  only  the  joy  of  my  younger  days,  and  main  delight 
of  my  manhood,  but  also  the  comfort,  and  even  the  hope,  of 
my  now  declining  years.  In  a  word,  it  is  next  to  my  Bible  to 
me,  and  written  in  equal  English;  and  if  you  espy  any  good- 
ness whatever  in  my  own  loose  style  of  writing,  you  must  not 
thank  me,  John  Ridd,  for  it,  but  the  writer  who  holds  the 
champion's  belt  in  wit,  as  I  once  did  in  Avrestling. 

Now  as  nothing  very  long  abides,  it  cannot  be  expected  that 
a  woman's  anger  should  last  very  long,  if  she  be  at  all  of  the 
proper  sort.  And  my  mother,  being  one  of  the  very  best, 
could  not  long  retain  her  wrath  against  the  Squire  Faggus; 
especially  when  she  came  to  reflect,  upon  Annie's  suggestion, 
how  natural,  and  one  might  say,  how  inevitable  it  was,  that 
a  young  man  fond  of  adventure  and  change,  and  winning  good 
profits  by  jeopardy,  should  not  settle  down  without  some 
regret  to  a  fixed  abode,  and  a  life  of  sameness,  however  safe 
and  respectable.  And  even  as  Annie  put  the  case,  Tom  de- 
served the  greater  credit  for  vanquishing  so  nobly  these  yearn- 
ings of  his  nature ;  and  it  seemed  very  hard  to  upbraid  him, 
considering  how  good  his  motives  were;  neither  could  Annie 
understand  how  mother  could  reconcile  it  with  her  knowledge 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER.  45 

of  the  Bible,  and  the  one  sheep  that  was  lost,  and  the  hun- 
dredth piece  of  silver,  and  the  man  that  went  down  to  Jericho. 

Whether  Annie's  logic  was  good  and  sound,  I  am  sure  I 
cannot  tell ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  ought  to  have  left 
the  Jericho  traveller  alone,  inasmuch  as  he  rather  fell  among 
Tom  Fagguses,  than  resembled  them.  However,  her  reason- 
ing was  too  much  for  mother  to  hold  out  against;  and  Tom 
was  replaced,  and  more  than  that,  being  regarded  now  as  an 
injured  man.  But  how  my  mother  contrived  to  know,  that 
because  she  had  been  too  hard  upon  Tom,  he  must  be  right 
about  the  necklace,  is  a  point  which  I  never  could  clearly  per- 
ceive, though  no  doubt  she  could  explain  it. 

To  prove  herself  right  in  that  conclusion,  she  went  herself 
to  fetch  Lorna,  that  the  trinket  might  be  examined,  before  the 
day  grew  dark.  My  darling  came  in,  with  a  very  quick  glance 
and  smile  at  my  cigarro  (for  I  was  having  the  third  by  this 
time,  to  keep  things  in  amity) ;  and  I  waved  it  towards  her, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "you  see  that  I  can  do  it."  And  then 
mother  led  her  up  to  the  light,  for  Tom  to  examine  her 
necklace. 

On  the  shapely  curve  of  her  neck  it  hung,  like  dewdrops 
upon  a  white  hyacinth ;  and  I  was  vexed  that  Tom  should  have 
the  chance  to  see  it  there.  But  even  as  if  she  had  read  my 
thoughts,  or  outrun  them  with  her  own,  Lorna  turned  away, 
and  softly  took  the  jewels  from  the  place  which  so  much 
adorned  them.  And  as  slie  turned  away,  they  sparkled  through 
the  rich  dark  waves  of  hair.  Then  she  laid  the  glittering  cir- 
clet in  my  mother's  hands;  and  Tom  Faggus  took  it  eagerly, 
and  bore  it  to  the  window. 

"Don't  you  go  out  of  sight,"  I  said;  "you  cannot  resist 
such  things  as  those,  if  they  be  what  you  think  them. " 

"  Jack,  I  shall  have  to  trounce  thee  yet.  I  am  uoav  a  man 
of  lionor,  and  entitled  to  the  duello.  What  will  you  take  for 
it.  Mistress  Lorna?     At  a  hazard,  say  now." 

"I  am  not  accustomed  to  sell  things,  sir,"  replied  Lorna, 
who  did  not  like  him  much,  else  she  would  have  answered 
sportively,  "What  is  it  worth,  in  your  opinion?" 

"Do  you  think  it  is  worth  five  pounds,  now?" 

"Oh  no!  I  never  had  so  much  money  as  that  in  all  my  life. 
It  is  very  bright  and  very  pretty;  but  it  cannot  be  worth  five 
pounds,  I  am  sure." 

"What  a  chance  for  a  bargain!  Oh,  if  it  were  not  for 
Annie,  I  could  mak*;  ]iiy  fortune." 

"  But,  sir,  I  would  not  sell  it  to  you,  not  for  twenty  times 


46  LOENA   DOONE. 

five  pounds.  My  grandfather  was  so  kind  about  it;  and  I 
think  it  belonged  to  my  mother." 

"  There  are  twenty-five  rose  diamonds  in  it,  and  twenty-five 
large  brilliants  that  cannot  be  matched  in  London.  How  say 
you,  Mistress  Lorna,  to  a  hundred  thousand  pounds?" 

My  darling's  eyes  so  flashed  at  this,  brighter  than  any  dia- 
monds, tliat  I  said  to  myself,  "  Well,  all  have  faults ;  and  now 
I  have  found  out  Lorna's  —  she  is  fond  of  money !  "  And  then 
I  sighed  rather  heavily;  for  of  all  faults  this  seems  to  me  one 
of  the  worst  in  a  woman.  But  even  before  my  sigh  was  fin- 
ished, I  had  cause  to  condemn  myself.  For  Lorna  took  the 
necklace  very  quietly  from  the  hand  of  Squire  Faggus,  who 
had  not  half  done  with  admiring  it,  and  she  went  up  to  my 
mother,  with  the  sweetest  smile  I  ever  saw. 

"  Dear,  kind  mother,  I  am  so  glad, "  she  said  in  a  whisper, 
coaxing  mother  out  of  sight  of  all  but  me;  "now  you  will  have 
it,  won't  you,  dear?  And  I  shall  be  so  happy;  for  a  thou- 
sandth part  of  your  kindness  to  me  no  jewels  in  the  world  can 
match." 

I  cannot  lay  before  you  the  grace  with  which  she  did  it, 
all  the  air  of  seeking  favor,  rather  than  conferring  it,  and  the 
high-bred  fear  of  giving  offence,  which  is  of  all  fears  the 
noblest.  Mother  knew  not  what  to  say.  Of  course  she  would 
never  dream  of  taking  such  a  gift  as  that;  and  yet  she  saw 
how  sadly  Lorna  would  be  disappointed.  Therefore  mother 
did,  from  habit,  what  she  almost  always  did,  she  called  me  to 
help  her.  But  knowing  that  my  eyes  were  full  —  for  anything 
noble  moves  me  so,  quite  as  rashly  as  things  pitiful  —  I  pre- 
tended not  to  hear  my  mother,  but  to  see  a  wild  cat  in  the 
dairy. 

Therefore  I  cannot  tell  what  mother  said  in  reply  to  Lorna; 
for  when  I  came  back,  quite  eager  to  let  my  love  know  how  I 
worshipped  her,  and  how  deeply  I  was  ashamed  of  myself,  for 
meanly  wronging  her  in  my  heart,  behold  Tom  Faggus  had 
gotten  again  the  necklace  which  had  such  charms  for  him,  and 
was  delivering  all  around  (but  especially  to  Annie,  who  was 
wondering  at  his  learning)  a  dissertation  on  precious  stones, 
and  his  sentiments  about  those  in  his  hand.  He  said  that  the 
work  was  very  ancient,  but  undoubtedly  very  good;  the  cut- 
ting of  every  line  was  true,  and  every  angle  Avas  in  its  place. 
And  this,  he  said,  made  all  the  difference  in  the  lustre  of  the 
stone,  and  therefore  in  its  value.  For  if  the  facets  were  ill- 
matched,  and  the  points  of  light  soever  little  out  of  perfect 
harmony,  all  the  lustre  of  the  jewel  would  be  loose  and  waver- 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER.  47 

ing,  and  the  central  fire  dulled;  instead  of  answering,  as  it 
should,  to  all  possibilities  of  gaze,  and  overpowering  any  eye 
intent  on  its  deep  mysteries.  We  laughed  at  the  Squire's  dis- 
sertation; for  how  should  he  know  all  these  things,  being  noth- 
ing better,  and  indeed  much  worse,  than  a  mere  Northmolton 
blacksmith?  He  took  our  laughter  with  much  good  nature; 
having  Annie  to  squeeze  his  hand  and  convey  her  grief  at  our 
ignorance ;  but  he  said  that  of  one  thing  he  was  quite  certain, 
and  therein  I  believed  him.  To  wit,  that  a  trinket  of  this  kind 
never  could  have  belonged  to  any  ignoble  family,  but  to  one  of 
the  very  highest  and  most  wealthy  in  England.  And  looking 
at  Lorna,  I  felt  sure  that  she  must  have  come  from  a  higher 
source  than  the  very  best  of  diamonds. 

Tom  Faggus  said  that  the  necklace  was  made,  he  would 
answer  for  it,  in  Amsterdam,  two  or  three,  hundred  years  ago, 
long  before  London  jewellers  had  begun  to  meddle  with  dia- 
monds ;  and  on  the  gold  clasp  he  found  some  letters,  done  in 
some  inverted  way,  the  meaning  of  which  was  beyond  him ; 
also  a  bearing  of  some  kind,  which  he  believed  was  a  mountain- 
cat.  And  thereupon  he  declared  that  now  he  had  earned 
another  glass  of  schnapps,  and  would  Mistress  Lorna  mix  it 
for  him? 

I  was  amazed  at  his  impudence;  and  Annie,  who  thought 
this  her  business,  did  not  look  best  pleased;  and  I  hoped  that 
Lorna  would  tell  him  at  once  to  go  and  do  it  for  himself.  But 
instead  of  that  she  rose  to  do  it,  with  a  soft  humility,  which 
went  direct  to  the  heart  of  Tom ;  and  he  leaped  up  with  a  curse 
at  liimself,  and  took  the  hot  water  from  her,  and  would  not 
allow  her  to  do  anything  except  to  put  tlie  sugar  in;  and  then 
he  bowed  to  her  grandly.  I  knew  what  Lorna  was  thinking 
of;  she  was  thinking  all  the  time  that  her  necklace  had  been 
taken  by  the  Doones  with  violence  upon  some  great  robbery ; 
and  that  Squire  Faggus  knew  it,  though  he  would  not  show  his 
knowledge ;  and  that  this  was  perhaps  the  reason  why  mother 
had  refused  it  so. 

We  said  no  more  about  the  necklace,  for  a  long  time  after- 
wards; neither  did  my  darling  wear  it,  now  that  she  knew  its 
value,  but  did  not  know  its  liistory.  She  came  to  me  the  very 
next  day,  trying  to  look  cheerful,  and  begged  me  if  I  loved  her 
(never  mind  lunv  little)  to  take  charge  of  it  again,  as  I  once 
liad  done  before,  and  not  even  to  let  her  know  in  what  place  I 
stored  it.  I  told  her  tliat  tliis  last  request  I  could  not  comply 
with;  for  having  been  round  lier  neck  so  often,  it  was  now  a 
sacred  thing,  more  than  a  million  pounds  could  be.     Therefore 


48  LORNA   BOONE. 

it  should  dwell  for  the  present  in  the  neighborhood  of  my 
heart;  and  so  could  not  be  far  from  her.  At  this  she  smiled 
her  own  sweet  smile,  and  touched  my  forehead  with  her  lips, 
and  wished  that  she  could  only  learn  how  to  deserve  such  love 
as  mine. 

Tom  Faggus  took  his  good  departure,  which  was  a  kind 
farewell  to  me,  on  the  very  day  I  am  speaking  of,  the  day  after 
his  arrival.  Tom  was  a  thoroughly  upright  man,  according  to 
his  own  standard;  and  you  might  rely  upon  him  always,  up  to 
a  certain  point  I  mean,  to  be  there  or  thereabouts.  But  some- 
times things  were  too  many  for  Tom,  especially  with  ardent 
spirits,  and  then  he  judged,  perhaps  too  much,  with  only  him- 
self for  the  jury.  At  any  rate,  I  would  trust  him  fully,  for 
candor  and  for  honesty,  in  almost  every  case  in  which  he  him- 
self could  have  no  interest.  And  so  we  got  on  very  well 
together ;  and  he  thought  me  a  fool ;  and  I  tried  my  best  not 
to  think  anything  worse  of  him. 

Scarcely  was  Tom  clean  out  of  sight,  and  Annie's  tears  not 
dry  yet  (for  she  always  made  a  point  of  crying  upon  his  depart- 
ure), when  in  came  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  splashed  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot,  and  not  in  the  very  best  of  humors, 
though  happy  to  get  back  again. 

"  Curse  those  fellows ! "  he  cried,  with  a  stamp  which  sent 
the  water  hissing  from  his  boot  among  the  embers ;  "  a  pretty 
plight  you  may  call  this,  for  His  Majesty's  Commissioner  to 
return  to  his  headquarters  in!  Annie,  my  dear,"  for  he  was 
always  very  affable  with  Annie,  "  will  you  help  me  off  with  my 
overalls,  and  then  turn  your  pretty  hand  to  the  gridiron?  Not 
a  blessed  morsel  have  I  touched  for  more  than  twenty-four 
hours." 

"Surely  then  you  must  be  quite  starving,  sir,"  my  sister 
replied  with  the  greatest  zeal ;  for  she  did  love  a  man  with  an 
appetite;  "how  glad  I  am  that  the  fire  is  clear!  "  But  Lizzie, 
who  happened  to  be  there,  said  with  her  peculiar  smile  — 

"Master  Stickles  must  be  used  to  it;  for  he  never  comes 
back  without  telling  us  that." 

"Hush!"  cried  Annie,  quite  shocked  with  her;  "how  would 
you  like  to  be  used  to  it?  Now,  Betty,  be  quick  with  the 
things  for  me.  Pork,  or  mutton,  or  deer's  meat,  sir?  We 
have  some  cured  since  the  autumn." 

"Oh  deer's  meat,  by  all  means,"  Jeremy  Stickles  answered; 
"  I  have  tasted  none  since  I  left  you,  though  dreaming  of  it 
often.  Well,  this  is  better  than  being  chased  over  the  moors 
for  one's  life,  John.     All  the  way  from  Landacre  Bridge,  I 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER.  49 

have  ridden  a  race  for  my  precious  life,  at  the  peril  of  my  limbs 
and  neck.  Three  great  Doones  galloping  after  me,  and  a  good 
job  for  me  that  they  were  so  big,  or  they  must  have  overtaken 
me.  Just  go  and  see  to  my  horse,  John,  that's  an  excellent 
lad.  He  deserves  a  good  turn,  this  day,  from  me ;  and  I  will 
render  it  to  him." 

However  he  left  me  to  do  it,  while  he  made  himself  com- 
fortable ;  and  in  truth  the  horse  required  care ;  he  was  blown 
so  that  he  could  hardly  stand,  and  plastered  with  mud,  and 
steaming  so  that  the  stable  was  quite  full  of  it.  By  the  time 
I  had  put  the  poor  fellow  to  rights,  his  master  had  finished 
dinner,  and  was  in  a  more  pleasant  humor,  having  even  offered 
to  kiss  Annie,  out  of  pure  gratitude,  as  he  said;  but  Annie 
answered  with  spirit,  that  gratitude  must  not  be  shown  by 
increasing  the  obligation.  Jeremy  made  reply  to  this,  that 
his  only  way  to  be  grateful  then  was  to  tell  us  his  story ;  and 
so  he  did,  at  greater  length  than  I  can  here  repeat  it ;  for  it 
does  not  bear  particularly  upon  Lorna's  fortunes. 

It  appears  that  as  he  was  riding  towards  us,  from  the  town 
of  Southmolton  in  Devonshire,  he  found  the  roads  very  soft 
and  heavy,  and  the  floods  out  in  all  directions ;  but  met  with 
no  other  difficulty  until  he  came  to  Landacre  Bridge.  He  had 
only  a  single  trooper  with  him,  a  man  not  of  the  militia,  but 
of  the  King's  army,  whom  Jeremy  had  brought  from  Exeter. 
As  these  two  descended  towards  the  bridge,  they  observed  that 
both  the  Kensford  water,  and  the  River  Barle,  were  pouring 
down  in  mighty  floods,  from  the  melting  of  the  snow.  So 
great  indeed  was  the  torrent,  after  they  united,  that  only  the 
parapets  of  the  bridge  could  be  seen  above  the  water,  the  road 
across  either  bank  being  covered  and  very  deep  on  the  hither 
side.  The  trooper  did  not  like  the  look  of  it,  and  proposed  to 
ride  back  again,  and  round  by  way  of  Simonsbath,  where  the 
stream  is  smaller.  But  Stickles  would  not  have  it  so,  and, 
dashing  into  the  river,  swam  his  horse  for  the  bridge,  and 
gained  it  with  some  little  trouble;  and  there  he  found  the 
water  not  more  than  up  to  his  horse's  knees  perhaps.  On  the 
crown  of  the  bridge  ho  turned  his  horse  to  watch  the  trooper's 
passage,  and  to  help  him  with  directions;  when  suddenly  he 
saw  him  fall  headlong  into  the  torrent,  and  heard  the  report  of 
a  gun  from  behind,  and  felt  a  shock  to  his  own  body,  such  as 
lifted  him  out  of  the  saddle.  Turning  round  he  beheld  three 
men,  risen  up  from  l)ehind  the  liedge  on  one  side  of  his  onward 
road,  two  of  tliem  r(;ady  to  load  again,  and  one  with  his  gun 
unfired,  waiting  to  get  good  aim  at  him.     Then  Jeremy  did  a 

YOL.   II.  —  4 


50  LOENA   BOONE. 

gallant  thing,  for  wliicli  I  doubt  wlietlier  I  should  have  had  the 
presence  of  mind  in  the  danger.  He  saw  that  to  swim  his 
horse  back  again  would  be  almost  certain  death;  as  affording 
such  a  target,  where  even  a  wound  must  be  fatal.  Therefore 
he  struck  the  spurs  into  the  nag,  and  rode  through  the  water 
straight  at  the  man  who  was  pointing  the  long  gun  at  him.  If 
the  horse  had  been  carried  off  his  legs,  there  must  have  been 
an  end  of  Jeremy;  for  the  other  men  were  getting  ready  to 
have  another  shot  at  him.  But  luckily  the  liorse  galloped 
right  on  without  any  need  for  swimming,  being  himself  excited, 
no  doubt,  by  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  of  it.  And  Jeremy  lay 
almost  flat  on  his  neck,  so  as  to  give  little  space  for  good  aim, 
with  the  mane  tossing  wildly  in  front  of  him.  isow  if  that 
young  fellow  with  the  gun  had  his  brains  as  ready  as  his  flint 
was,  he  would  have  shot  the  horse  at  once,  and  then  had 
Stickles  at  his  mercy ;  but  instead  of  that  he  let  fly  at  the  man, 
and  missed  him  altogether,  being  scared  perhaps  by  the  pistol 
which  Jeremy  showed  him  the  mouth  of.  And  galloping  by 
at  full  speed,  Master  Stickles  tried  to  leave  his  mark  behind 
him,  for  he  changed  the  aim  of  his  pistol  to  the  biggest  man, 
who  was  loading  his  gun  and  cursing  like  ten  cannons.  But 
the  pistol  missed  fire,  no  doubt  from  the  flood  which  had 
gurgled  in  over  the  holsters ;  and  Jeremy  seeing  three  horses 
tethered  at  a  gate  just  up  the  hill,  knew  that  he  had  not  yet 
escaped,  but  had  more  of  danger  behind  him.  He  tried  his 
other  great  pistol  at  one  of  the  horses  tethered  there,  so  as  to 
lessen  (if  possible)  the  number  of  his  pursuers.  But  the 
powder  again  failed  him;  and  he  durst  not  stop  to  cut  the 
bridles,  hearing  the  men  coming  up  the  hill.  So  he  even  made 
the  most  of  his  start,  thanking  God  that  his  weight  was  light, 
compared  at  least  to  what  theirs  was. 

And  another  thing  he  had  noticed  which  gave  him  some  hope 
of  escaping,  to  wit,  that  the  horses  of  the  Doones,  although 
very  handsome  animals,  were  suffering  still  from  the  bitter 
effects  of  the  late  long  frost,  and  the  scarcity  of  fodder.  "  If 
they  do  not  catch  me  up,  or  shoot  me,  in  the  course  of  the  first 
two  miles,  I  may  see  my  home  again;  "  this  was  what  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  turned  to  mark  what  they  were  about,  from 
the  brow  of  the  steep  hill.  He  saw  the  flooded  valley  shining 
with  the  breadth  of  water,  and  the  trooper's  horse  on  the  other 
side,  shaking  his  drenched  flanks  and  neighing ;  and  half-way 
down  the  hill  he  saw  the  three  Doones  mounting  hastily.  And 
then  he  knew  that  his  only  chance  lay  in  the  stoutness  of  his 
steed. 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER.  61 

The  horse  was  in  pretty  good  condition ;  and  the  rider  knew 
him  thoroughly,  and  how  to  make  the  most  of  him;  and  though 
they  had  travelled  some  miles  that  day  through  very  heavy 
ground,  the  bath  in  the  river  had  washed  the  mud  off,  and  been 
some  refreshment.  Therefore  Stickles  encouraged  his  nag, 
and  put  him  into  a  good  hand  gallop,  heading  away  towards 
Withycombe.  At  first  he  had  thought  of  turning  to  the  right, 
and  making  off  for  Withypool,  a  mile  or  so  down  the  valley  •, 
but  his  good  sense  told  him  that  no  one  there  would  dare  to 
protect  him  against  the  Doones,  so  he  resolved  to  go  on  his 
way;  yet  faster  than  he  had  intended. 

The  three  villains  came  after  him,  with  all  the  speed  they 
could  muster,  making  sure  from  the  badness  of  the  road  that 
he  must  stick  fast  ere  long,  and  so  be  at  their  mercy.  And 
this  was  Jeremy's  chiefest  fear,  for  the  ground  being  soft  and 
thoroughly  rotten,  after  so  much  frost  and  snow,  the  poor  horse 
had  terrible  work  of  it,  with  no  time  to  pick  the  way;  and 
even  more  good  luck  than  skill  was  needed  to  keep  him  from 
foundering.  How  Jeremy  prayed  for  an  Exmoor  fog  (such  as 
he  had  often  sworn  at),  that  he  might  turn  aside  and  lurk, 
while  his  pursuers  went  past  him !  But  no  fog  came,  nor  even 
a  storm  to  damp  the  priming  of  their  guns ;  neither  was  wood 
or  coppice  nigh,  nor  any  place  to  hide  in ;  only  hills,  and  moor, 
and  valleys ;  with  flying  shadows  over  them,  and  great  banks 
of  snow  in  the  corners.  At  one  time  poor  Stickles  was  quite 
in  despair;  for  after  leaping  a  little  brook  which  crosses  the 
track  atNewland,  he  stuck  fast  in  a  "dancing-bog,"  as  we  call 
them  upon  Exmoor.  The  horse  had  broken  through  the  crust 
of  moss  and  sedge  and  marish-weed,  and  could  do  nothing  but 
wallow  and  sink,  with  the  black  water  spirting  over  him.  And 
Jeremy,  struggling  with  all  his  might,  saw  the  three  villains 
now  topping  the  crest,  less  than  a  furlong  behind  him;  and 
heard  them  shout  in  their  savage  delight.  With  the  calmness 
of  despair,  he  yet  resolved  to  have  one  more  try  for  it;  and 
scramliling  over  the  horse's  head,  gained  firm  land,  and  tugged 
at  the  bridle.  The  poor  nag  replied  with  all  his  power  to  the 
call  ui)on  his  courage,  and  reared  his  forefeet  out  of  the  slough, 
and  with  straining  eyeballs  gazed  at  him.  "Now,"  said  Jer- 
emy, "now,  my  fine  fellow!  "  lifting  him  with  the  bridle;  and 
the  brave  beast  gathered  the  roll  of  his  loins,  and  sprang  from 
his  quagmircd  liaunches.  One  more  spring,  and  he  was  on 
earth  again,  instead  of  being  under  it;  and  Jeremy  leaped  on 
his  back,  and  stooped,  for  he  knew  that  they  would  fire.  Two 
bullets  whistled  over  him,  as  the  horse,  mad  with  fright,  dashed 


62  LORNA  BOONE. 

forward;  and  in  five  minutes  more  he  had  come  to  the  Exe, 
and  the  pursuers  had  fallen  behind  him.  The  Exe,  though  a 
much  smaller  stream  than  the  Barle,  now  ran  in  a  foaming 
torrent,  unbridged,  and  too  wide  for  leaping.  But  Jeremy's 
horse  took  the  water  well;  and  both  he  and  his  rider  were 
lightened,  as  well  as  comforted  by  it.  And  as  they  passed 
towards  Lucott  hill,  and  struck  upon  the  founts  of  Lynn,  the 
horses  of  the  three  pursuers  began  to  tire  under  them.  Then 
Jeremy  Stickles  knew  that  if  he  could  only  escape  the  sloughs, 
he  was  safe  for  the  present ;  and  so  he  stood  up  in  his  stirrups, 
and  gave  them  a  loud  halloo,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  foxes. 

Their  only  answer  was  to  fire  the  remaining  charge  at  him; 
but  the  distance  was  too  great  for  any  aim  from  horseback ;  and 
the  dropping  bullet  idly  ploughed  the  sod  upon  one  side  of 
him.  He  acknowledged  it  with  a  wave  of  his  hat,  and  laid  one 
thumb  to  his  nose,  in  the  manner  fashionable  in  London  for 
expression  of  contempt.  However,  they  followed  him  yet 
further,  hoping  to  make  him  pay  out  dearly,  if  he  should  only 
miss  the  track,  or  fall  upon  morasses.  But  the  neighborhood 
of  our  Lynn  stream  is  not  so  very  boggy;  and  the  King's  mes- 
senger now  knew  his  way  as  well  as  any  of  his  chasers  did; 
and  so  he  arrived  at  Plover's  Barrows,  thankful,  and  in  rare 
appetite. 

"But  was  the  poor  soldier  drowned? "  asked  Annie;  "and 
you  never  went  to  look  for  him !     Oh,  how  very  dreadful !  " 

"  Shot,  or  drowned ;  I  know  not  which.  Thank  God  it  was 
only  a  trooper.  But  they  shall  pay  for  it,  as  dearly  as  if  it 
had  been  a  captain." 

"  And  how  was  it  you  were  struck  by  a  bullet,  and  only  shaken 
in  your  saddle?  Had  you  a  coat  of  mail  on,  or  of  Milanese 
chain-armor?    Now  Master  Stickles,  had  you?" 

"ISTo,  Mistress  Lizzie;  we  do  not  wear  things  of  that  kind 
nowadays.  You  are  apt,  I  perceive,  at  romances.  But  I  hap- 
pened to  have  a  little  flat  bottle  of  the  best  stoneware  slung 
iDeneath  my  saddle-cloak,  and  filled  with  the  very  best  eau  de 
vie,  from  the  George  Hotel,  at  Southmolton.  The  brand  of  it 
now  is  upon  my  back.  Oh,  the  murderous  scoundrels,  what  a 
brave  spirit  they  have  spilled !  " 

"You  had  better  set  to  and  thank  God,"  said  I,  "that  they 
have  not  spilled  a  braver  one." 


EVERY  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  63 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

EVERY    MAN    MUST    DEFEND    HIMSELF. 

It  was  only  right  in  Jeremy  Stickles,  and  of  the  simplest 
common  sense,  that  he  would  not  tell,  before  our  girls,  what 
the  result  of  his  journey  was.  But  he  led  me  aside  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  and  told  me  all  about  it;  saying  that  I 
knew,  as  well  as  he  did,  that  it  was  not  woman's  business. 
This  I  took,  as  it  was  meant,  for  a  gentle  caution  that  Lorna 
(whom  he  had  not  seen  as  yet)  must  not  be  informed  of  any  of 
his  doings.  Herein  I  quite  agreed  with  him;  not  only  for  his 
furtherance,  but  because  I  always  think  that  women,  of  what- 
ever mind,  are  best  when  least  they  meddle  with  the  things 
that  appertain  to  men. 

Master  Stickles  complained  that  the  weather  had  been  against 
him  bitterly,  closing  all  the  roads  around  him;  even  as  it  had 
done  with  us.  It  had  taken  him  eight  days,  he  said,  to  get 
from  Exeter  to  Plymouth ;  whither  he  found  that  most  of  the 
troops  had  been  drafted  off  from  Exeter.  When  all  were  told, 
there  was  but  a  battalion  of  one  of  the  King's  horse  regiments, 
and  two  companies  of  foot  soldiers ;  and  their  commanders  had 
orders,  later  than  the  date  of  Jeremy's  commission,  on  no 
account  to  quit  the  southern  coast  and  march  inland.  There- 
fore, although  they  would  gladly  have  come  for  a  brush  with 
the  celebrated  Doones,  it  was  more  than  they  durst  attempt, 
in  the  face  of  their  instructions.  However,  they  spared  him  a 
single  trooper,  as  a  companion  of  the  road,  and  to  prove  to  the 
justices  of  the  county,  and  the  lord  lieutenant,  that  he  had  their 
approval. 

To  these  authorities  Master  Stickles  now  was  forced  to  ad- 
dress himself,  although  he  would  rather  have  had  one  trooper 
than  a  score  from  the  very  best  trained  bands.  For  these 
trained  bands  had  afforded  very  good  soldiers,  in  the  time  of 
the  civil  wars,  and  for  some  years  afterwards ;  but  now  their 
discipline  was  gone;  and  the  younger  generation  liad  seen  no 
real  fighting.  Each  would  have  his  own  opinion,  and  would 
want  to  argue  it;  and  if  this  were  not  allowed,  he  went  about 
his  duty  in  such  a  temper  as  to  prove  that  his  own  way  was 
the  Ijest. 

Neither  was  this  the  worst  of  it;  for  Jeremy  made  no  doubt 
but  what  (if  he  could  only  get  the  militia  to  turn  out  in  force) 


54  LORN  A  BOONE. 

he  miglit  manage,  with  the  help  of  his  own  men,  to  force  the 
5tronghohl  of  tlie  enemy ;  but  tlie  truth  was  that  the  officers, 
knowing  how  hard  it  woukl  be  to  collect  their  men  at  tliat 
time  of  the  year,  and  in  that  state  of  the  weather,  began  with 
one  accord  to  make  every  possible  excuse.  And  especially 
they  pressed  this  point,  that  Bagworthy  was  not  in  their 
county;  the  Devonshire  people  affirming  vehemently  that  it 
lay  in  the  county  of  Somerset,  and  the  Somerset  folk  aver- 
ring, even  with  imprecations,  that  it  lay  in  Devonshire. 
Now  I  believe  the  truth  to  be  that  the  boundary  of  the  two 
counties,  as  well  as  of  Oare  and  Brendon  parishes,  is  defined 
by  the  Bagworthy  river ;  so  that  the  disputants,  on  both  sides, 
were  both  right  and  wrong. 

Upon  this.  Master  Stickles  suggested,  and  as  I  thought  very 
sensibly,  that  the  two  counties  should  unite,  and  equally  con- 
tribute to  the  extirpation  of  this  pest,  which  shamed  and 
injured  them  both  alike.  But  hence  arose  another  difficulty; 
for  the  men  of  Devon  said  they  would  march  when  Somerset 
had  taken  the  field;  and  the  sons  of  Somerset  replied,  that 
indeed  they  were  quite  ready,  but  what  were  their  cousins  of 
Devonshire  doing?  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  King's 
Commissioner  returned,  without  any  army  whatever;  but  with 
promise  of  two  hundred  men  when  the  roads  should  be  more 
passable.  And  meanwhile,  what  were  we  to  do,  abandoned  as 
we  were  to  the  mercies  of  the  Doones,  with  only  our  own 
hands  to  help  us?  And  herein  I  grieved  at  my  own  folly,  in 
having  let  Tom  Faggus  go,  whose  wit  and  courage  would  have 
been  worth  at  least  half-a-dozen  men  to  us.  Upon  this  matter 
I  held  long  council  with  my  good  friend  Stickles ;  telling  him 
all  about  Lorna's  presence,  and  what  I  knew  of  her  history. 
He  agreed  with  me,  that  we  could  not  hope  to  escape  an  attack 
from  the  outlaws,  and  the  more  especially  now  that  they  knew 
liimself  to  be  returned  to  us.  Also  he  praised  me  for  my  fore- 
thought, in  having  threshed  out  all  our  corn,  and  hidden  the 
produce  in  such  a  manner  that  they  were  not  likely  to  find  it. 
Furthermore,  he  recommended  that  all  the  entrances  to  the 
house  should  at  once  be  strengthened,  and  a  watch  must  be 
maintained  at  night;  and  he  thought  it  wiser  that  I  should 
go  (late  as  it  was)  to  Lynmouth,  if  a  horse  could  pass  the 
valley,  and  fetch  every  one  of  his  mounted  troopers,  who 
might  now  be  quartered  there.  Also  if  any  men  of  courage, 
though  capable  only  of  handling  a  pitchfork,  could  be  found 
in  the  neighborhood,  I  was  to  try  to  summon  them.  But  our 
district  is  so  thinly  peopled,  that  I  had  little  faith  in  thisj 


EVEBY  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  55 

however,  m}^  errand  was  given  me,  and  I  set  forth  upon  it ;  for 
John  Fry  was  afraid  of  the  waters. 

Knowing  how  fiercely  the  floods  were  out,  I  resolved  to 
travel  the  higher  road,  by  Cosgate  and  through  Countisbury; 
therefore  I  swam  my  horse  through  the  Lynn,  at  the  ford 
below  our  house  (where  sometimes  you  may  step  across),  and 
thence  galloped  up  and  along  the  hills.  I  could  see  all  the 
inland  valleys  ribbon'd  with  broad  waters ;  and  in  every  wind- 
ing crook,  the  banks  of  snow  that  fed  them;  while  on  my  right 
the  turbid  sea  was  flaked  with  April  showers.  But  when  I 
descended  the  hill  towards  Lynmouth,  I  feared  that  my  jour- 
ney was  all  in  vain. 

For  the  East  Lynn  (which  is  our  river)  was  ramping  and 
roaring  frightfully,  lashing  whole  trunks  of  trees  on  the  rocks, 
and  rending  them,  and  grinding  them.  And  into  it  rushed, 
from  the  opposite  side,  a  torrent  even  madder;  upsetting  what 
it  came  to  aid;  shattering  wave  with  boiling  billow,  and  scat- 
tering wrath  with  fury.  It  was  certain  death  to  attempt  the 
passage;  and  the  little  wooden  footbridge  had  been  carried 
away  long  ago.  And  the  men  I  was  seeking  must  have  their 
dwelling  on  the  other  side  of  this  deluge,  for  on  my  side  there 
was  not  a  single  house. 

I  followed  the  bank  of  the  flood  to  the  beach,  some  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  below;  and  there  had  the  luck  to  see 
Will  Watcombe  on  the  ojiposite  side,  caulking  an  old  boat. 
Though  I  could  not  make  him  hear  a  word,  from  the  deafen- 
ing roar  of  the  torrent,  I  got  him  to  understand  at  last  that  I 
wanted  to  cross  over.  Upon  this  he  fetched  another  man,  and 
the  two  of  them  launched  a  boat;  and  paddling  well  out  to 
sea,  fetched  round  the  mouth  of  the  frantic  river.  The  other 
man  proved  to  be  Stickles'  chief  mate;  and  so  he  went  back, 
and  fetched  his  comrades,  bringing  tlieir  weapons,  but  leaving 
their  horses  behind.  As  it  hap})ened  there  were  but  four  of 
them;  liowever  to  have  even  these  was  a  help;  and  I  started 
again  at  full  speed  for  my  home;  for  the  men  must  follow 
afoot,  and  cross  our  river  'high  up  on  the  moorland. 

This  took  them  a  long  way  round,  and  the  track  was  rather 
bad  to  find,  and  the  sky  already  darkening;  so  that  I  arrived 
at  Plover's  Barrows  more  than  two  hours  before  tliem.  But 
they  had  done  a  sagacious  thing,  which  was  well  worth  the 
delay;  for  by  hoisting  their  flag  upon  the  hill,  they  fetched 
the  two  watchmen  from  the;  Foreland,  and  added  them  to  their 
number. 

It  was  lucky  that  I  came  home  so  soon;  for  I  found  the 


66  LORNA  DOONE. 

house  in  a  great  commotion,  and  all  the  women  trembling. 
When  I  asked  what  the  matter  was,  Lorna,  who  seemed  the 
most  self-possessed,  answered  that  it  was  all  her  fault,  for 
she  alone  had  frightened  them.  And  this  in  the  following 
manner.  She  had  stolen  out  to  the  garden  towards  dusk,  to 
watch  some  favorite  hyacinths  just  pushing  up,  like  a  baby's 
teeth,  and  just  attracting  the  fatal  notice  of  a  great  house- 
snail  at  night-time.  Lorna  at  last  had  discovered  the  glutton, 
and  was  bearing  him  off  in  triumph  to  the  tribunal  of  the 
ducks,  when  she  descried  two  glittering  eyes  glaring  at  her 
steadfastly,  from  the  elder  bush  beyond  the  stream.  The 
elder  was  smoothing  its  wrinkled  leaves,  being  at  least  two 
months  behind  time;  and  among  them  this  calm  cruel  face 
appeared;  and  she  knew  it  was  the  face  of  Carver  Doone. 

The  maiden,  although  so  used  to  terror  (as  she  told  me  once 
before),  lost  all  presence  of  mind  hereat,  and  could  neither 
shriek  nor  fly,  but  only  gaze,  as  if  bewitched.  Then  Carver 
Doone,  with  his  deadly  smile,  gloating  upon  her  horror,  lifted 
his  long  gun,  and  pointed  full  at  Lorna' s  heart.  In  vain  she 
strove  to  turn  away;  fright  had  stricken  her  stiff  as  stone. 
With  the  inborn  love  of  life,  she  tried  to  cover  the  vital  part 
wherein  the  winged  death  must  lodge  —  for  she  knew  Carver's 
certain  aim  —  but  her  hands  hung  numbed,  and  heavy :  in 
nothing  but  her  eyes  was  life. 

With  no  sign  of  pity  in  his  face,  no  quiver  of  relenting, 
but  a  well-pleased  grin  at  all  the  charming  palsy  of  his  victim. 
Carver  Doone  lowered,  inch  by  inch,  the  muzzle  of  his  gun. 
When  it  pointed  to  the  ground,  between  her  delicate  arched 
insteps,  he  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the  bullet  flung  the  mould 
all  over  her.  It  was  a  refinement  of  bullying,  for  which  I 
swore  to  God  that  night,  upon  my  knees,  in  secret,  that  I 
would  smite  down  Carver  Doone;  or  else  he  should  smite  me 
down.  Base  beast!  what  largest  humanity,  or  what  dreams 
of  divinity,  could  make  a  man  put  up  with  this? 

My  darling  (the  loveliest,  and  most  harmless,  in  the  world 
of  maidens)  fell  away  on  a  l)ank  of  grass,  and  wept  at  her  own 
cowardice;  and  trembled,  and  wondered  where  I  was;  and 
what  I  would  think  of  this.  Good  God!  What  could  I  think 
of  it?     She  overrated  my  slow  nature,  to  admit  the  question. 

While  she  leaned  there,  quite  unable  yet  to  save  herself. 
Carver  came  to  the  brink  of  the  flood,  which  alone  was  be- 
tween them;  and  then  he  stroked  his  jet-black  beard,  and 
waited  for  Lorna  to  begin.  Very  likely,  he  thought  that  she 
would  thank  him  for  his  kindness  to  her.     But  she  was  now 


EVERY  MAN   MUST  DEFEND   HIMSELF.  57 

recovering  the  power  of  her  nimble  limbs ;  and  ready  to  be  off 
like  hope,  and  wonder  at  her  own  cowardice. 

"  I  have  spared  you,  this  time, "  he  said,  in  his  deep,  calm 
voice,  "  only  because  it  suits  my  plans ;  and  I  never  yield  to 
temper.  But  unless  you  come  back  to-morrow,  pure,  and  with 
all  you  took  away,  and  teach  me  to  destroy  that  fool,  who  has 
destroyed  himself  for  you,  your  death  is  here,  your  death  is 
here,  where  it  has  long  been  waiting." 

Although  his  gun  was  empty,  he  struck  the  breech  of  it  with 
his  iinger;  and  then  he  turned  away,  not  deigning  even  once 
to  look  back  again;  and  Lorna  saw  his  giant  figure  striding 
across  the  meadow-land,  as  if  the  Kidds  were  nobodies,  and 
he  the  proper  owner.  Both  mother  and  I  were  greatly  hurt 
at  hearing  of  this  insolence ;  for  we  had  owned  that  meadow 
from  the  time  of  the  great  Alfred;  and  even  when  that  good 
king  lay  in  the  Isle  of  Athelney,  he  had  a  Ridd  along  with 
him. 

!Now  I  spoke  to  Lorna  gently,  seeing  how  much  she  had 
been  tried;  and  I  praised  her  for  her  courage,  in  not  having 
run  away,  when  she  was  so  unable;  and  my  darling  was 
pleased  with  this,  and  smiled  upon  me  for  saying  it;  though 
she  knew  right  well  that,  in  this  matter,  my  judgment  was 
not  impartial.  But  you  may  take  this  as  a  general  rule,  that 
a  woman  likes  praise  from  the  man  whom  she  loves,  and  can- 
not stop  always  to  balance  it. 

Now,  expecting  a  sharp  attack  that  night  —  which  Jeremy 
Stickles  the  more  expected,  after  the  words  of  Carver,  which 
seemed  to  be  meant  to  mislead  us  —  we  prepared  a  great 
quantity  of  knuckles  of  pork,  and  a  ham  in  full  cut,  and  a 
fillet  of  hung  mutton.  For  we  would  almost  surrender,  rather 
than  keep  our  garrison  hungry.  And  all  our  men  were  ex- 
ceedingly brave;  and  counted  their  rounds  of  the  house  in 
half-pints. 

Before  the  maidens  went  to  bed,  Lorna  made  a  remark  which 
seemed  to  me  a  very  clever  one,  and  then  I  wondered  how  on 
earth  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  before.  But  first  she  had 
done  a  thing,  which  I  could  not  in  the  least  approve  of;  for 
she  had  gone  up  to  my  mother,  and  thrown  herself  into  her 
arms,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  return  to  Glen  Doone. 

"My  child,  are  you  unhappy  here?"  mother  asked  her, 
very  gently,  for  she  had  begun  to  regard  her  now  as  a  daughter 
of  her  own. 

" Oh  no!  Too  happy,  by  far  too  happy,  Mrs.  Ridd.  I  never 
knew  rest  or  peace  before,  or  met  with  real  kindness.     But  I 


58  LOENA   BOONE. 

cannot  be  so  ungrateful,  I  cannot  be  so  wicked,  as  to  bring 
you  all  into  deadly  peril,  for  my  sake  alone.  Let  me  go;  you 
must  not  pay  this  great  price  for  my  happiness." 

"Dear  child,  we  are  paying  no  price  at  all,"  replied  my 
mother,  embracing  her;  "we  are  not  threatened  for  your  sake 
only.  Ask  John,  he  will  tell  you.  He  knows  every  bit  about 
politics,  and  this  is  a  political  matter." 

Dear  mother  was  rather  proud  in  her  heart,  as  well  as  ter- 
ribly frightened,  at  the  importance  now  accruing  to  Plover's 
Barrows  farm;  and  she  often  declared  that  it  would  be  as 
famous  in  history  as  the  Rye  House,  or  the  meal-tub,  or  even 
the  great  black  box,  in  which  she  was  a  firm  believer;  and 
even  my  knowledge  of  politics  could  not  move  her  upon  that 
matter.  "Such  things  had  happened  before,"  she  would  say, 
shaking  her  head  with  its  Avisdom,  "  and  why  might  they  not 
happen  again?  Women  would  be  women,  and  men  would  be 
men,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter;  and  if  she  had  been  in  Lucy 
Walter's  place,  she  would  keep  it  quiet,  as  she  had  done ; " 
and  then  she  would  look  round,  for  fear,  lest  either  of  her 
daughters  had  heard  her ;  "  but  now,  can  you  give  me  any 
reason,  why  it  may  not  have  been  so?  You  are  so  fearfully 
positive,  John;  just  as  men  always  are."  "No,"  I  used  to 
say;  "I  can  give  you  no  reason  Avhy  it  may  not  have  been  so, 
mother.  But  the  question  is,  if  it  was  so,  or  not;  rather  than 
what  it  might  have  been.  And,  I  think,  it  is  pretty  good 
proof  against  it,  that  what  nine  men  of  every  ten  in  England 
would  only  too  gladly  believe,  if  true,  is  nevertheless  kept 
dark  from  them."  "There  you  are  again,  John,"  mother 
would  reply,  "all  about  men,  and  not  a  single  word  about 
women.  If  you  had  any  argument  at  all,  you  would  own  that 
marriage  is  a  question  upon  which  women  are  the  best  judges." 
"Oh!"  I  would  groan  in  my  spirit,  and  go;  leaving  my  dear- 
est mother  quite  sure,  that  now  at  last  she  must  have  con- 
vinced me.  But  if  mother  had  known  that  Jeremy  Stickles 
was  working  against  the  black  box,  and  its  issue,  I  doubt 
whether  he  would  have  fared  so  well,  even  though  he  was  a 
visitor.  However,  she  knew  that  something  was  doing,  and 
something  of  importance;  and  she  trusted  in  God  for  the  rest 
of  it.  Only  she  used  to  tell  me,  very  seriously,  of  an  even- 
ing, "  The  very  least  they  can  give  you,  dear  John,  is  a  coat 
of  arms.  Be  sure  you  take  nothing  less,  dear;  and  the  farm 
can  well  support  it." 

But  lo !  I  have  left  Lorna  ever  so  long,  anxious  to  consult 
me   upon  political  matters.     She  came  to  me,  and  her  eyes 


EVERY  MAN   MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  69 

alone  asked  a  hundred  questions,  which  I  rather  had  an- 
swered upon  her  lips,  than  troubled  her  pretty  ears  with  them. 
Therefore  I  told  her  nothing  at  all,  save  that  the  attack  (if 
any  should  be)  would  not  be  made  on  her  account;  and  that  if 
she  should  hear,  by  any  chance,  a  trifle  of  a  noise  in  the  night, 
she  was  to  wrap  the  clothes  around  her,  and  shut  her  beauti- 
ful eyes  again.  On  no  account,  whatever  she  did,  was  she  to 
go  to  the  window.  She  liked  my  expression  about  her  eyes, 
and  promised  to  do  the  very  best  she  could;  and  tlien  she  crept 
so  very  close,  that  I  needs  must  have  her  closer ;  and  with  her 
head  on  my  breast  slie  asked  — 

"Can't  you  keep  out  of  this  tight,  John?" 

"My  own  one,"  I  answered,  gazing  through  the  long  black 
lashes,  at  the  depths  of  radiant  love ;  "  I  believe  there  will  be 
nothing;  but  what  there  is,  I  must  see  out." 

"Shall  I  tell  you  wliat  I  think,  John?  It  is  only  a  fancy 
of  mine,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  worth  telling." 

"  Let  us  have  it,  dear,  by  all  means.  You  know  so  much 
about  their  ways." 

"What  I  believe  is  this,  John.  You  know  how  high  the 
rivers  are,  higher  than  ever  they  were  before,  and  twice  as 
high,  you  have  told  me.  I  believe  that  Glen  Doone  is  flooded, 
and  all  the  houses  under  water." 

"You  little  witch,"  I  answered;  "what  a  fool  I  must  be  not 
to  think  of  it !  Of  course  it  is ;  it  must  be.  The  torrent  from 
all  the  Bagwortliy  forest,  and  all  the  valleys  above  it,  and  the 
great  drifts  in  the  glen  itself,  never  could  have  outlet  down  my 
famous  water-slide.  The  valley  must  be  under  water  twenty 
feet  at  least.  Well,  if  ever  there  was  a  fool,  I  am  he,  for  not 
having  tliought  of  it." 

"I  remember  once  before,"  said  Lorna,  reckoning  on  her 
fingers,  "when  there  was  very  heavy  rain,  all  through  the 
autumn  and  winter,  five  or  it  may  be  six  years  ago,  the  river 
came  down  with  such  a  rush  that  the  water  was  two  feet  deep 
in  our  rooms,  and  we  all  liad  to  cam])  by  the  cliff-edge.  But 
you  think  that  tlie  floods  are  higher  now,  I  believe  I  heard 
you  say,  John." 

"I  don't  think  about  it,  my  treasure,"  I  answered;  "you 
may  trust  mo  for  understanding  floods,  after  our  work  at 
Tivtu'ton.  And  I  know  that  the  dc^hige  in  all  our  valleys  is 
such  as  no  living  man  can  remember,  neither  will  ever  be- 
liohl  again.  f\)iisider  three  moiitlis  of  snow,  snow,  snow,  and 
a  fortniglit  of  rain  on  tin;  top  of  it,  and  all  to  be  drained  in 
a  few  days    away!     And  great  barricades  of  ice  still  in  the 


60  LORNA   BOONE. 

rivers  blocking  them  up,  and  ponding  them.  You  may  take 
my  word  for  it,  Mistress  Lorna,  that  your  pretty  bower  is  six 
feet  deep." 

"  Well,  my  bower  has  served  its  time, "  said  Lorna,  blush- 
ing as  she  remembered  all  that  had  happened  there ;  "  and  my 
bower  now  is  here,  John.  But  I  am  so  sorry  to  think  of  all 
the  poor  women  flooded  out  of  their  houses,  and  sheltering  in 
the  snowdrifts.  However,  there  is  one  good  of  it:  they 
cannot  send  many  men  against  us,  with  all  this  trouble  upon 
tliem." 

"You  are  right,"  I  replied;  "how  clever  you  are!  and  that 
is  why  there  were  only  three  to  cut  off  Master  Stickles.  And 
now  we  shall  beat  them,  I  make  no  doubt,  even  if  they  come 
at  all.  And  I  defy  them  to  lire  the  house :  the  thatch  is  too 
wet  for  burning." 

We  sent  all  the  women  to  bed  quite  early,  except  Gwenny 
Carfax  and  our  old  Betty.  These  two  we  allowed  to  stay  up, 
because  they  might  be  useful  to  us,  if  they  could  keep  from 
quarrelling.  For  my  part,  I  had  little  fear,  after  what  Lorna 
had  told  me,  as  to  the  result  of  the  combat.  It  was  not  likely 
that  the  Doones  could  bring  more  than  eight  or  ten  men 
against  us,  while  their  homes  were  in  such  danger;  and  to 
meet  these  we  had  eight  good  men,  including  Jeremy,  and 
myself,  all  well-armed  and  resolute,  besides  our  three  farm- 
servants,  and  the  parish-clerk,  and  the  shoemaker.  These  five 
coiild  not  be  trusted  much  for  any  valiant  conduct,  although 
they  spoke  very  confidently  over  their  cans  of  cider.  Neither 
were  their  weapons  fitted  for  much  execution,  unless  it  were 
at  close  quarters,  which  they  would  be  likely  to  avoid.  Bill 
Dadds  had  a  sickle,  Jim  Slocombe  a  flail,  the  cobbler  had  bor- 
rowed the  constable's  staff  (for  the  constable  would  not 
attend,  because  there  was  no  warrant),  and  the  parish  clerk 
had  brought  his  pitch-pipe,  which  was  enough  to  break  any 
man's  head.  But  John  Fry,  of  course,  had  his  blunderbuss, 
loaded  with  tin-tacks  and  marbles,  and  more  likely  to  kill  the 
man  who  discharged  it  than  any  other  person ;  but  we  knew 
that  John  had  it  only  for  show,  and  to  describe  its  qualities. 

Now  it  was  my  great  desire,  and  my  chiefest  hope,  to  come 
across  Carver  Doone  that  night,  and  settle  the  score  between 
us ;  not  by  any  shot  in  the  dark,  but  by  a  conflict  man  to  man. 
As  yet,  since  I  came  to  full-grown  power,  I  had  never  met 
any  one  whom  I  could  not  play  tee-totum  with;  but  now  at 
last  I  had  found  a  man  Avhose  strength  was  not  to  be  laughed 
at.     I  could  guess  it  in  his  face,  I  could  tell  it  in  his  arms,  I 


EVERY  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  61 

could  see  it  in  his  stride  and  gait,  which  more  than  all  the 
rest  betray  the  substance  of  a  man.  And  being  so  well  used 
to  wrestling,  and  to  judge  antagonists,  I  felt  that  here  (if 
anywhere)  I  had  found  my  match. 

Therefore  I  was  not  content  to  abide  within  the  house,  or 
go  the  rounds  with  the  troopers;  but  betook  myself  to  the 
rickyard,  knowing  that  the  Doones  were  likely  to  begin  their 
onset  there.  For  they  had  a  pleasant  custom,  when  they  vis- 
ited farm-houses,  of  lighting  themselves  towards  picking  up 
anything  they  wanted,  or  stabbing  the  inhabitants,  by  first 
creating  a  blaze  in  the  rickyard.  And  though  our  ricks  were 
all  now  of  mere  straw  (except  indeed  two  of  prime  clover  hay), 
and  although  on  the  top  they  were  so  wet  that  no  firebrands 
might  hurt  them;  I  was  both  unwilling  to  have  them  burned, 
and  fearful  that  they  might  kindle,  if  well  roused  up  with  fire 
upon  the  windward  side. 

By  the  by,  these  Doones  had  got  the  worst  of  this  pleasant 
trick  one  time.  For  happening  to  fire  the  ricks  of  a  lonely 
farm  called  Yeanworthy,  not  far  above  Glenthorne,  they  ap- 
proached the  house  to  get  people's  goods,  and  to  enjoy  their 
terror.  The  master  of  the  farm  was  lately  dead,  and  had  left, 
inside  the  clockcase,  loaded,  the  great  long  gun,  wherewith 
he  had  used  to  sport  at  the  ducks  and  the  geese  on  the  shore. 
Now  Widow  Fisher  took  out  this  gun,  and  not  caring  much 
what  became  of  her  (for  she  had  loved  her  husband  dearly)  she 
laid  it  upon  the  window-sill,  which  looked  upon  the  rickyard; 
and  she  backed  up  the  butt  with  a  chest  of  oak  drawers,  and 
she  opened  the  window  a  little  back,  and  let  the  muzzle  out 
on  the  slope.  Presently  five  or  six  fine  young  Doones  came 
dancing  a  reel  (as  their  manner  was)  betwixt  her  and  the  flam- 
ing rick.  Upon  which  she  pulled  the  trigger  with  all  the 
force  of  her  thumb,  and  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  duck-shot 
went  out  with  a  blaze  on  the  dancers.  You  may  suppose 
what  their  dancing  was,  and  their  reeling  how  changed  to 
staggering,  and  their  music  none  of  the  sweetest.  One  of 
them  fell  into  the  rick,  and  was  burned,  and  buried  in  a  ditch 
next  day;  but  the  others  were  set  upon  their  horses,  and 
carried  home  on  a  path  of  blood.  And  strange  to  say,  they 
never  avenged  this  very  dreadful  injuiy;  but  having  heard 
that  a  woman  had  fired  this  desperate  shot  among  them,  they 
said  that  she  ought  to  be  a  Doone,  and  inquired  how  old  she 
was. 

Now  I  had  not  been  so  very  long  waiting  in  our  mow-yard, 
with  my  best  gun  ready,  and  a  big  club  by  me,  before  a  heavi- 


62  LORNA  DOONE. 

ness  of  sleep  began  to  creep  -upon  me.  The  flow  of  water  was 
in  my  ears,  and  in  my  eyes  a  hazy  spreading,  and  upon  my 
brain  a  closure,  as  a  cobbler  sews  a  vamp  up.  So  1  leaned 
back  in  the  clover-rick,  and  the  dust  of  the  seed,  and  the  smell 
came  round  me,  without  any  trouble ;  and  I  dozed  about  Lorna, 
just  once  or  twice,  and  what  she  had  said  about  new-mown 
hay;  and  then  back  went  my  head,  and  my  chin  went  up;  and 
if  ever  a  man  was  blest  with  slumber,  down  it  came  upon  me, 
and  aAvay  went  I  into  it. 

ISTow  this  was  very  vile  of  me,  and  against  all  good  resolu- 
tions, even  such  as  I  would  have  sworn  to  an  hour  ago  or  less. 
But  if  you  had  been  in  tlie  water  as  I  had,  ay,  and  had  long 
fight  with  it,  after  a  good  day's  work,  and  then  great  anxiety 
afterwards,  and  brain- work  (which  is  not  fair  for  me),  and 
upon  that  a  stout  supper,  mayhap  you  would  not  be  so  hard 
on  my  sleep ;  though  you  felt  it  your  duty  to  wake  me. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

MAIDEN    SENTINELS    ARE    BEST. 

It  was  not  likely  that  the  outlaws  would  attack  our  prem- 
ises, until  some  time  after  the  moon  was  risen;  because  it 
would  be  too  dangerous  to  cross  the  flooded  valleys  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  And  but  for  this  consideration,  I  must 
have  striven  harder  against  the  stealthy  approach  of  slumber. 
But  even  so,  it  was  very  foolish  to  abandon  watch,  especially 
in  such  as  I,  who  sleep  like  any  dormouse.  Moreover  I  had 
chosen  the  very  worst  place  in  the  world  for  such  employment, 
with  a  goodly  chance  of  awaking  in  a  bed  of  solid  fire. 

And  so  it  might  have  been,  nay,  it  must  have  been,  but 
for  Lorna's  vigilance.  Her  light  hand  upon  my  arm  awoke 
me,  not  too  readily;  and  leaping  up,  I  seized  my  club,  and 
prepared  to  knock  down  somebody. 

"Who's  that?"  I  cried;  "stand  back,  I  say,  and  let  me 
have  fair  chance  at  you." 

"Are  you  going  to  knock  me  down,  dear  John?"  replied  the 
voice  I  loved  so  well ;  "  I  am  sure  I  should  never  get  up  again, 
after  one  blow  from  you,  John." 

"My  darling,  is  it  you?"  I  cried;  "and  breaking  all  your 
orders  ?  Come  back  into  the  house  at  once ;  and  nothing  on 
your  head,  dear !  " 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST.  63 

"How  could  I  sleep,  while  at  any  moment  you  might  be 
killed  beneath  my  window?  And  noAV  is  the  time  of  real  dan- 
ger; for  men  can  see  to  travel." 

I  saw  at  once  the  truth  of  tliis.  The  moon  was  high,  and 
clearly  lighting  all  the  watered  valleys.  To  sleep  any  longer 
might  be  death,  not  only  to  myself,  but  all. 

"The  man  on  guard  at  the  back  of  the  house  is  fast  asleep," 
she  continued ;  "  Gwenny,  who  let  me  out,  and  came  with  me, 
has  heard  him  snoring  for  two  hours.  I  think  the  women  ought 
to  be  the  watch,  because  they  have  had  no  travelling.  Where 
do  you  suppose  little  Gwenny  is?" 

"  Surely  not  gone  to  Glen  Doone?  "  I  was  not  sure  however : 
for  I  could  believe  almost  anything  of  the  Cornish  maiden's 
hardihood. 

"Xo,"  replied  Lorna,  "although  she  wanted  even  to  do  that. 
But  of  course  I  would  not  hear  of  it,  on  account  of  the  swollen 
waters.  But  she  is  perched  in  yonder  tree,  which  commands 
the  Barrow  valley.  She  says  that  they  are  almost  sure  to  cross 
the  streamlet  there ;  and  now  it  is  so  wide  and  large,  that  she 
can  trace  it  in  the  moonlight,  half-a-mile  beyond  her.  If  they 
cross,  she  is  sure  to  see  them,  and  in  good  time  to  let  us  know." 

"\Vliat  a  shame,"  I  cried,  "that  the  men  should  sleep,  and 
the  maidens  be  the  soldiers !  I  will  sit  in  that  tree  myself, 
and  send  little  Gwenny  back  to  you.  Go  to  bed,  my  best  and 
dearest;  I  will  take  good  care  not  to  sleep  again." 

"  Please  not  to  send  me  away,  dear  John, "  she  answered  very 
mournfully;  "you  and  I  have  been  together  through  perils 
worse  than  this.  I  shall  only  be  more  timid,  and  more  miser- 
able, indoors." 

"  I  cannot  let  you  stay  here,"  I  said;  "  it  is  altogether  impos- 
sible. Do  you  suppose  that  I  can  fight,  witli  you  among  the 
bullets,  Lorna?  If  this  is  the  way  you  mean  to  take  it,  we 
had  better  go  both  to  the  apple-room,  and  lock  ourselves  in, 
and  hide  under  the  tiles,  and  let  them  burn  all  the  rest  of  the 
premises." 

At  this  idea  Lorna  laughed,  as  I  could  see  by  the  moonlight; 
and  then  she  said  — 

"  You  are  right,  John.  I  should  only  do  more  harm  than 
good :  and  of  all  things  I  hate  fighting  most,  and  disobedience 
next  to  it.  Therefore  I  will  go  indoors,  although  I  cannot  go 
to  bed.  But  promise  me  one  thing,  dearest  John.  You  will 
keep  yourself  out  of  the  way,  now  won't  you,  as  much  as  you 
can,  for  my  sake?" 

"Of  tliat  you  may  be  quite  certain,  Lorna.  I  will  shoot 
them  all  through  the  hay-ricks." 


64  LORN  A   DOONE. 

"  That  is  right,  dear, "  she  answered,  never  doubting  but  what 
I  could  do  it;  "and  then  they  cannot  see  you,  you  know.  But 
don't  think  of  climbing  that  tree,  John;  it  is  a  great  deal  too 
dangerous.  It  is  all  very  well  for  Gwenny;  she  has  no  bones 
to  break." 

"None  worth  breaking,  you  mean,  I  suppose.  Very  well; 
I  will  not  climb  the  tree,  for  I  should  defeat  my  own  purpose, 
I  fear;  being  easier  to  be  seen  than  see.  Now  go  indoors, 
darling,  without  more  words.  The  more  you  linger,  the  more 
I  shall  keep  you." 

She  laughed  her  own  bright  laugh  at  this,  and  only  said, 
"  God  keep  you,  love !  "  and  then  away  she  tripped  across  the 
yard,  with  the  step  I  loved  to  watch  so.  And  thereupon  I 
shouldered  arms,  and  resolved  to  tramp  till  morning.  For  I 
was  vexed  at  my  own  neglect,  and  that  Lorna  should  have  to 
right  it. 

But  before  I  had  been  long  on  duty,  making  the  round  of 
the  ricks  and  stables,  and  hailing  Gwenny  now  and  then  from 
the  bottom  of  her  tree,  a  short  wide  figure  stole  towards  me,  in 
and  out  the  shadows,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  no  other  than  the 
little  maid  herself,  and  that  she  bore  some  tidings. 

"  Ten  on  'em  crossed  the  watter  down  yonner,"  said  Gwenny, 
putting  her  hand  to  her  mouth,  and  seeming  to  regard  it  as 
good  news  rather  than  otherwise ;  "  be  arl  craping  up  by  hedge- 
row now.  I  could  shutt  dree  on  'em  from  the  bar  of  the  gate, 
if  so  be  I  had  your  goon,  young  man." 

"  There  is  no  time  to  lose,  Gwenny.  Eun  to  the  house,  and 
fetch  Master  Stickles,  and  all  the  men;  while  I  stay  here,  and 
watch  the  rick-yard." 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong  in  heeding  the  ricks,  at  such  a  time  as 
that;  especially  as  only  the  clover  was  of  much  importance. 
But  it  seemed  to  me  like  a  sort  of  triumph  that  they  should 
even  be  able  to  boast  of  having  fired  our  mow-yard.  There- 
fore I  stood  in  a  nick  of  the  clover,  whence  we  had  cut  some 
trusses,  with  my  club  in  hand,  and  gun  close  by. 

The  robbers  rode  into  our  yard  as  coolly  as  if  they  had  been 
invited,  having  lifted  the  gate  from  the  hinges  first,  on  account 
of  its  being  fastened.  Then  they  actually  opened  our  stable- 
doors,  and  turned  our  honest  horses  out,  and  put  their  own 
rogues  in  the  place  of  them.  At  this  my  breath  was  quite 
taken  away;  for  we  think  so  much  of  our  horses.  By  this 
time  I  could  see  our  troopers,  waiting  in  the  sliadow  of  the 
house,  round  the  corner  from  where  the  Doones  were,  and 
expecting  the  order  to  fire.     But  Jeremy  Stickles  very  wisely 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST.  65 

kept  them  in  readiness,  until  the  enemy  should  advance  upon 
them. 

"Two  of  you  lazy  fellows  go,"  it  was  the  deep  voice  of 
Carver  Doone,  "  and  make  us  a  light  to  cut  their  throats  by. 
Only  one  thing,  once  again.  If  any  man  touches  Lorna,  I  will 
stab  him  where  he  stands.  She  belongs  to  me.  There  are  two 
other  young  damsels  here,  whom  you  may  take  away  if  you 
please.  And  the  mother,  I  hear,  is  still  comely.  JSToav  for 
our  rights.  We  have  borne  too  long  the  insolence  of  these 
yokels.  Kill  every  man,  and  every  child,  and  burn  the  cursed 
place  down." 

As  he  spoke  thus  blasphemously,  I  set  my  gun  against  his 
breast;  and  by  the  light  buckled  from  his  belt,  I  saAV  the  little 
"  sight "  of  brass  gleaming  alike  upon  either  side,  and  the  sleek 
round  barrel  glimmering.  The  aim  was  sure  as  death  itself. 
If  I  only  drew  the  trigger  (which  went  very  lightly)  Carver 
Doone  would  breathe  no  more.  And  yet  —  will  you  believe 
me?  —  I  could  not  pull  the  trigger.  Would  to  God  that  I  had 
done  so! 

For  I  never  had  taken  human  life,  neither  done  bodily  harm 
to  man;  beyond  the  little  bruises,  and  the  trifling  aches  and 
pains,  which  follow  a  good  and  honest  bout  in  the  wrestling 
ring.  Therefore  I  dropped  my  carbine,  and  grasped  again  my 
club,  which  seemed  a  more  straightforward  implement. 

Presently  two  young  men  came  towards  me,  bearing  brands 
of  resined  hemp,  kindled  from  Carver's  lamp.  The  foremost 
of  them  set  his  torch  to  the  rick  within  a  yard  of  me,  the  smoke 
concealing  me  from  him.  I  struck  him  with  a  back-handed 
blow  on  the  elbow,  as  he  bent  it;  and  I  heard  the  bone  of  his 
arm  break,  as  clearly  as  ever  I  heard  a  twig  snap.  With  a 
roar  of  pain  he  fell  on  the  ground,  and  his  torch  dropped  there, 
and  singed  him.  The  other  man  stood  amazed  at  this,  not  hav- 
ing yet  gained  sight  of  me;  till  I  caught  his  firebrand  from 
his  hand,  and  struck  it  into  his  countenance.  With  that  he 
leaped  at  me;  but  I  caught  him,  in  a  manner  learned  from 
early  wrestling,  and  snapped  his  collar-bone,  as  I  laid  him 
upon  the  top  of  his  comrade. 

This  little  success  so  encouraged  me,  that  I  was  half  inclined 
to  advance,  and  cliallongc  Carver  Doone  to  meet  me;  but  I 
bore  in  mind  that  he  wouhl  be  apt  to  shoot  me  without  cere- 
mony; and  what  is  the  utmost  of  human  strength  against  the 
power  of  powder?  Moreover  I  remembiu-ed  my  promise  to 
sweet  Lorna;  and  who  would  be  left  to  defend  her,  if  the 
rogues  got  rid  of  me? 

VOL.  II.  —  5 


QQ  LOBNA   BOONE. 

Wliile  I  was  hesitating  tlius  (for  I  always  continue  to  hesi- 
tate, except  in  actiial  conflict)  a  blaze  of  fire  lit  up  the  house, 
and  brown  smoke  hung  around  it.  Six  of  our  men  had  let  go 
at  the  Doones,  by  Jeremy  Stickles'  order,  as  the  villains  came 
swaggering  down  in  the  moonlight,  ready  for  rape  or  murder. 
Two  of  them  fell,  and  the  rest  hung  back,  to  think  at  their 
leisure  what  this  was.  They  were  not  used  to  this  sort  of 
thing :  it  was  neither  just  nor  courteous. 

Being  unable  any  longer  to  contain  myself,  as  I  thought  of 
Lorna's  excitement  at  all  this  noise  of  firing,  I  came  across  the 
yard,  expecting  whether  they  would  shoot  at  me.  However, 
no  one  shot  at  me;  and  I  went  up  to  Carver  Doone,  whom  I 
knew  by  his  size  in  the  moonlight,  and  I  took  him  by  the  beard, 
and  said,  "Do  you  call  yourself  a  man?" 

For  a  moment,  he  was  so  astonished  that  he  could  not  answer. 
None  had  ever  dared,  I  suppose,  to  look  at  him  in  tliat  way; 
and  he  saw  that  he  had  met  his  equal,  or  perhaps  his  master. 
And  then  he  tried  a  pistol  at  me ;  but  I  was  too  quick  for  him. 

"Now,  Carver  Doone,  take  warning,"  I  said  to  him,  very 
soberly;  "you  have  shown  yourself  a  fool,  by  your  contempt 
of  me.  I  may  not  be  your  match  in  craft;  but  I  am  in  man- 
hood. You  are  a  despicable  villain.  Lie  low  in  your  native 
muck." 

And  with  that  word,  I  laid  him  flat  upon  his  back  in  our 
straw-yard,  by  a  trick  of  the  inner  heel,  which  he  could  not 
have  resisted  (though  his  strength  had  been  twice  as  great  as 
mine),  unless  he  were  a  wrestler.  Seeing  him  down,  the  others 
ran,  though  one  of  them  made  a  shot  at  me,  and  some  of  them 
got  their  horses,  before  our  men  came  up;  and  some  went  away 
without  them.  And  among  these  last  was  Captain  Carver, 
who  arose,  while  I  was  feeling  myself  (for  I  had  a  little  wound), 
«.nd  strode  away  with  a  train  of  curses,  enough  to  poison  the 
•ight  of  the  moon. 

We  gained  six  very  good  horses,  by  this  attempted  rapine, 
as  well  as  two  young  prisoners,  whom  I  had  smitten  by  the 
clover-rick.  And  two  dead  Doones  were  left  behind;  whom 
(as  we  buried  them  in  the  cliurch-yard,  without  any  service 
over  them)  I  for  my  part  was  most  thankful  that  I  had  not 
killed.  For  to  have  the  life  of  a  fellow-man  laid  upon  one's 
conscience  —  deserved  he  his  death,  or  deserved  it  not  —  is  to 
my  sense  of  right  and  wrong  the  heaviest  of  all  burdens ;  and 
the  one  that  wears  most  deeply  inwards,  with  the  dwelling  of 
the  mind  on  this  view  and  on  that  of  it. 

I  was  inclined  to  pursue  the  enemy,  and  try  to  capture  more 


MAIDEN   SENTINELS   ARE  BEST.  67 

of  them ;  but  Jeremy  Stickles  Avould  not  allow  it,  for  he  said 
that  all  the  advantage  would  be  upon  their  side,  if  we  Avent 
hurrying  after  them,  with  only  the  moon  to  guide  us.  And 
who  could  tell  but  what  there  might  be  another  band  of  them, 
ready  to  fall  upon  the  house,  and  burn  it,  and  seize  the  women, 
if  we  left  them  unprotected?  When  he  put  the  case  thus,  I 
was  glad  enough  to  abide  by  his  decision.  And  one  thing  was 
quite  certain,  that  the  Doones  had  never  before  received  so 
rude  a  shock,  and  so  violent  a  bloAV  to  their  supremacy,  since 
first  they  had  built  up  their  power,  and  become  the  Lords  of 
Exmoor.  I  knew  that  Carver  Doone  would  gnash  those 
mighty  teeth  of  his,  and  curse  the  men  around  him,  for  the 
blunder  (which  was  in  truth  his  own)  of  over  confidence  and 
carelessness.  And  at  the  same  time,  all  the  rest  would  feel 
that  such  a  thing  had  never  happened,  while  old  Sir  Ensor  was 
alive ;  and  that  it  was  caused  by  nothing  short  of  gross  mis- 
management. 

I  scarcely  know  who  made  the  greatest  fuss  about  my  little 
wound,  mother,  or  Annie,  or  Lorna.  I  was  heartily  ashamed 
to  be  so  treated  like  a  milksop;  but  most  unluckily  it  had  been, 
impossible  to  hide  it.  For  the  ball  had  cut  along  my  temple, 
just  above  the  eye-brow;  and  being  fired  so  near  at  hand,  the 
powder  too  had  scarred  me.  Therefore  it  seemed  a  great  deal 
worse  than  it  really  was ;  and  the  sponging,  and  the  plaistering, 
and  the  sobbing,  and  the  moaning,  made  me  quite  ashamed  to 
look  Master  Stickles  in  the  face. 

However,  at  last  I  persuaded  them  that  I  had  no  intention 
of  giving  up  the  ghost  that  night;  and  then  they  all  fell  to, 
and  thanked  God,  with  an  emphasis  quite  unknown  in  church. 
And  hereupon  Master  Stickles  said,  in  his  free  and  easy  man- 
ner (for  no  one  courted  his  observation),  that  I  was  the  luckiest 
of  all  mortals  in  having  a  mother,  and  a  sister,  and  a  sweet- 
heart, to  make  much  of  me.  For  his  part,  he  said,  he  was  just 
as  well  off,  in  not  having  any  to  care  for  him.  For  now  he 
might  go  and  get  shot,  or  stabbed,  or  knocked  on  tlie  head,  at 
his  pleasure,  without  any  one  being  offended.  1  made  bold, 
upon  this,  to  ask  him  what  was  become  of  his  wife;  for  I  had 
heard  him  speak  of  having  one.  He  said  that  he  neither  knew 
nor  cared;  and  perhaps  I  should  l)e  like  him  some  day.  That 
Lorna  should  hear  such  sentiments  Avas  very  grievous  to  me. 
I'ut  she  looked  at  me  witli  a  smile,  which  proved  her  contempt 
for  all  such  ideas;  and  lest  anything  still  more  unfit  might  be 
said,  I  dismissed  tlie  question. 

But  Master  Stickles  told  me  afterwards,  when  there  was  no 


68  LORNA   DOONE. 

one  witli  us,  to  have  no  faith  in  any  woman,  whatever  she 
might  seem  to  be.  For  he  assured  me  that  now  he  possessed 
very  large  experience,  for  so  small  a  matter ;  being  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  women  of  every  class,  from  ladies  of  the 
highest  blood,  to  Bonarobas,  and  peasants'  wives:  and  that 
they  all  might  be  divided  into  three  heads  and  no  more;  that 
is  to  say  as  follows.  First,  the  very  hot  and  passionate,  who 
were  only  contemptible ;  second,  the  cold  and  indifferent,  who 
were  simply  odious ;  and  third,  the  mixture  of  the  other  two, 
who  had  the  bad  qualities  of  both.  As  for  reason,  none  of 
them  had  it :  it  was  like  a  sealed  book  to  them,  which  if  they 
ever  tried  to  open,  they  began  at  the  back  of  the  cover. 

Now  I  did  not  like  to  hear  such  things;  and  to  me  they 
appeared  to  be  insolent,  as  well  as  narrow-minded.  For  if  you 
came  to  that,  why  might  not  men,  as  well  as  women,  be  divided 
into  the  same  three  classes,  and  be  pronounced  upon  by  women, 
as  being  even  more  devoid  than  their  gentle  judges  of  reason? 
Moreover  I  knew,  both  from  my  own  sense,  and  from  the 
greatest  of  all  great  poets,  that  there  are,  and  always  have 
been,  plenty  of  women,  good  and  gentle,  warm-hearted,  loving, 
and  lovable ;  very  keen,  moreover,  at  seeing  the  right,  be  it  by 
reason,  or  otherwise.  And  upon  the  whole,  I  prefer  them  much 
to  the  people  of  my  own  sex,  as  goodness  of  heart  is  more 
important  than  to  show  good  reason  for  having  it.  And  so  I 
said  to  Jeremy  — 

"You  have  been  ill-treated,  perhaps.  Master  Stickles,  by 
some  woman  or  other?" 

"  Ay,  that  have  I ;  "  he  replied  with  an  oath ;  "  and  the  last 
on  earth  who  should  serve  me  so,  the  woman  who  was  my  wife. 
A  woman  whom  I  never  struck,  never  Avronged  in  any  way, 
never  even  let  her  know  that  I  liked  another  better.  And  yet 
when  I  was  at  Berwick  last,  with  the  regiment  on  guard  there 
against  those  vile  moss-troopers,  Avhat  does  that  woman  do  but 
fly  in  the  face  of  all  authority,  and  of  my  especial  business,  by 
running  away  herself  with  the  biggest  of  all  moss-troopers ! 
Not  that  I  cared  a  groat  about  her ;  and  I  wish  the  fool  well  rid 
of  her :  but  the  insolence  of  the  thing  was  such  that  every  body 
laughed  at  me ;  and  back  I  went  to  London,  losing  a  far  better 
and  safer  job  than  this ;  and  all  through  her.  Come,  let's  have 
another  onion." 

Master  Stickles'  view  of  the  matter  was  so  entirely  unro- 
mantic,  that  I  scarcely  wondered  at  Mistress  Stickles  for  hav- 
ing run  away  from  him  to  an  adventurous  moss-trooper.  For 
nine  women  out  of  ten  must  have  some  kind  of  romance  or 


r 


'ANNIK     bound     THK     BkOKliN     ARM     OV     IHIi     ONli     WHOM     1     HAD 

kno<;ki;i)    down." — Vol.   II.   p.   69. 


MAIDEN   SENTINELS  ABE  BEST.  69 

other,  to  make  their  lives  endurable;  and  when  their  love  has 
lost  this  attractive  element,  this  soft  dew-fog  (if  such  it  be), 
the  love  itself  is  apt  to  languish;  unless  its  bloom  be  well 
replaced  by  the  budding  hopes  of  childi-en.  Now  Master 
Stickles  neither  had,  nor  w^ished  to  have,  any  children. 

Without  waiting  for  any  warrant,  only  saying  something 
about  *'  captus  in  flagrante  delicto  "  —  if  that  be  the  way  to  spell 
it  —  Stickles  sent  our  prisoners  off,  bound  and  looking  miser- 
able, to  the  jail  at  Taunton.  I  was  desirous  to  let  them  go 
free,  if  they  would  promise  amendment;  but  although  I  had 
taken  them,  and  surely  therefore  had  every  right  to  let  them  go 
again,  Master  Stickles  said,  "Not  so."  He  assured  me  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  public  polity ;  and  of  course,  not  knowing  what 
he  meant,  I  could  not  contradict  him;  but  thought  that  surely 
my  private  rights  ought  to  be  respected.  For  if  I  throw  a  man 
in  wrestling,  I  expect  to  get  his  stakes ;  and  if  I  take  a  man 
prisoner  —  why,  he  ought,  in  common  justice,  to  belong  to  me, 
and  I  have  a  good  right  to  let  him  go,  if  I  think  proper  to  do 
so.  However  Master  Stickles  said  that  I  was  quite  benighted, 
and  knew  nothing  of  the  Constitution;  which  was  the  very 
thing  I  knew,  beyond  any  man  in  our  parish ! 

Nevertheless,  it  was  not  for  me  to  contradict  a  commissioner; 
and  therefore  I  let  my  prisoners  go,  and  wished  them  a  happy 
deliverance.  Stickles  replied,  with  a  merry  grin,  that  if  they 
ever  got  it,  it  would  be  a  jail  deliverance,  and  the  bliss  of 
dancing;  and  he  laid  his  hand  to  his  throat  in  a  manner  which 
seemed  to  me  most  uncourteous.  However  his  foresight  proved 
too  correct;  for  both  those  poor  fellows  were  executed,  soon 
after  the  next  assizes.  Lorna  had  done  her  very  best  to  earn 
another  chance  for  them;  even  going  down  on  her  knees  to 
that  common  Jeremy,  and  pleading  with  great  tears  for  them. 
However,  although  much  moved  by  her,  he  vowed  that  he 
durst  do  nothing  else.  To  set  them  free  was  more  than  his 
own  life  was  worth;  for  all  the  country  knew,  by  this  time, 
that  two  captive  Doones  were  roped  to  the  cider-press  at 
Plover's  Barrows.  Annie  bound  the  broken  arm  of  the  one 
whom  I  had  knocked  down  with  the  club,  and  I  myself  sup- 
ported it;  and  then  she  washed  and  rubbed  with  lard  the  face 
of  the  other  poor  follow,  Avhich  the  torch  had  injured;  and 
I  fetched  back  his  collar  bone  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  For 
before  any  surgeon  could  arrive,  they  were  off  with  a  well- 
armed  escort.  That  day  we  were  reinforced  so  strongly  from 
the  stations  along  the  coast,  even  as  far  as  Minehead,  that  we 
not  only  feared  no  further  attack,  but  even  talked  of  assaulting 


70  LORN  A   DO  ONE. 

Glen  Doone,  without  waiting  for  the  train-bands.  However,  I 
thought  that  it  woukl  be  mean  to  take  advantage  of  the  enemy 
in  the  thick  of  the  floods  and  confusion;  and  several  of  the 
others  thought  so  too,  and  not  like  fighting  in  water.  There- 
fore it  was  resolved  to  wait,  and  keep  a  watch  upon  the  valley, 
and  let  the  floods  go  down  again. 


CHAPTER  L. 

A    MERRY    MEETING    A    SAD    ONE. 

Now  the  business  I  had  most  at  heart  (as  every  one  knows 
by  this  time)  was  to  marry  Lorna  as  soon  as  might  be,  if  she 
had  no  objection,  and  then  to  work  the  farm  so  well,  as  to 
nourish  all  our  family.  And  herein  I  saw  no  difficulty;  for 
Annie  would  soon  be  off  our  hands,  and  somebody  might  come 
and  take  a  fancy  to  little  Lizzie  (who  was  growing  up  very 
nicely  now,  though  not  so  fine  as  Annie) ;  moreover  we  were 
almost  sure  to  have  great  store  of  hay  and  corn  after  so  much 
snow,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the  old  saying, 

"  A  foot  deep  of  rain 
Will  kill  hay  and  grain  ; 
But  three  feet  of  snow 
Will  make  them  come  mo'." 

And  although  it  was  too  true  that  we  had  lost  a  many  cattle, 
yet  even  so  we  had  not  lost  money;  for  the  few  remaining 
fetched  such  prices  as  were  never  known  before.  And  though 
we  grumbled  with  all  our  hearts,  and  really  believed,  at  one 
time,  that  starvation  was  upon  us,  I  doubt  whether,  on  the 
whole,  we  were  not  the  fatter,  and  the  richer,  and  the  wiser 
for  that  winter.  And  I  might  have  said  the  happier,  except 
for  the  sorrow  which  we  felt  at  the  failures  among  our  neigh- 
bors. The  Snowes  lost  every  sheep  they  had,  and  nine  out  of 
ten  horned  cattle;  and  poor  Jasper  Kebby  would  have  been 
forced  to  throw  up  the  lease  of  his  farm,  and  perhaps  to  go  to 
prison,  but  for  the  help  we  gave  him. 

However,  my  dear  mother  would  have  it  that  Lorna  was  too 
young,  as  yet,  to  think  of  being  married :  and  indeed  I  myself 
was  compelled  to  admit  that  her  form  was  becoming  more  per- 
fect and  lovely;  though  I  had  not  thought  it  possible.     And 


A   MEEHY  MEETING  A    SAD    ONE.  71 

another  difficulty  was,  that  as  we  had  all  been  Protestants  from 
the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  maiden  must  be  converted 
first,  and  taught  to  hate  all  Papists.  Now  Lorna  had  not  the 
smallest  idea  of  ever  being  converted.  She  said  that  she  loved 
me  truly,  but  wanted  not  to  convert  me ;  and  if  I  loved  her 
equally,  why  should  I  wish  to  convert  lier?  With  this  I  was 
tolerably  content,  not  seeing  so  very  much  difference  between 
a  creed  and  a  credo,  and  believing  God  to  be  our  Father,  in 
Latin  as  well  as  English.  Moreover  my  darling  knew  but 
little  of  the  Popish  ways  —  whether  excellent  or  otherwise  — 
inasmuch  as  the  Doones,  though  they  stole  their  houses,  or  at 
least  the  joiner's  work,  had  never  been  tempted  enough  by  the 
devil,  to  steal  either  church  or  chapel. 

Lorna  came  to  our  little  church,  Avhen  Parson  P>owden  re- 
appeared after  the  snow  was  over ;  and  she  said  tliat  all  was 
very  nice,  and  very  like  what  she  had  seen  in  the  time  of  her 
aunt  Sabina,  when  they  went  far  away  to  the  little  chapel, 
with  a  shilling  in  their  gloves.  It  made  the  tears  come  into 
her  eyes,  by  the  force  of  memory,  when  Parson  P)Owden  did 
the  things,  not  so  gracefully  nor  so  well,  yet  with  pleasant 
imitation  of  her  old  priest's  sacred  rites. 

"He  is  a  worthy  man,"  she  said,  being  used  to  talk  in  the 
service  time,  and  my  mother  was  obliged  to  cough :  "  I  like 
him  very  much  indeed :  but  I  wish  he  would  let  me  put  his 
things  the  right  way  on  his  shoulders." 

Every  body  in  our  parish,  who  could  walk  at  all,  or  hire  a 
boy  and  a  wheelbarrow,  ay  and  half  the  folk  from  Countis- 
bury,  Brendon,  and  even  Lynmouth,  was  and  were  to  be  found 
that  Sunday,  in  our  little  church  of  Oare.  People  who  would 
not  come  auigh  us,  when  tlie  Doones  were  threatening  with 
carbine  and  with  firebrand,  flocked  in  their  very  best  clothes, 
to  see  a  lady  Doone  go  to  church.  Now  all  this  came  of  that 
vile  John  Fry;  I  knew  it  as  well  as  possible;  his  tongue  was 
worse  than  the  clacker  of  a  charity  school-bell,  or  the  ladle  in 
the  frying-pan,  when  the  bees  are  swarming. 

However  Lorna  was  not  troubled;  partly  because  of  her 
natural  dignity  and  gentleness;  partly  because  she  never 
dreamed  tliat  the  people  were  come  to  look  at  her.  But  when 
we  came  to  tlie  Psalms  of  the  day,  with  some  vague  sense  of 
being  stared  at  more;  than  ought  to  be,  she  dropped  the  heavy 
black  lace  fringing  of  the  velvet  hat  she  wore,  and  concealed 
from  the  congregation  all  except  her  bright  red  lips,  and  the 
oval  snowdrift  of  her  chin.  I  touched  lier  hand,  and  she 
pressed  mine;  and  we  felt  that  we  were  close  together,  and 
G<jd  saw  no  harm  in  it. 


72  LOBNA   BOONE. 

As  for  Parson  Bowden  (as  worthy  a  man  as  ever  lived,  and 
one  who  could  shoot  flying)  he  scarcely  knew  what  he  was 
doing,  without  the  clerk  to  help  him.  He  had  borne  it  very 
well  indeed,  when  I  returned  from  London :  but  to  see  a  live 
Doone  in  his  church,  and  a  lady  Doone,  and  a  lovely  Doone, 
moreover  one  engaged  to  me,  upon  whom  he  almost  looked  as 
the  Squire  of  his  parish  (although  not  rightly  an  Armiger), 
and  to  feel  that  this  lovely  Doone  was  a  Papist,  and  therefore 
of  higher  religion  —  as  all  our  parsons  think  —  and  that  she 
knew  exactly  how  he  ought  to  do  all  the  service,  of  which  he 
himself  knew  little;  I  wish  to  express  my  firm  belief  that  all 
these  things  together  turned  Parson  Bowden's  head  a  little, 
and  made  him  to  look  to  me  for  orders. 

My  mother,  the  very  best  of  women,  was  (as  I  could  well 
perceive)  a  little  annoyed  and  vexed  with  things.  For  this 
particular  occasion,  she  had  procured  from  Dulverton,  by  spe- 
cial message  to  Ruth  Huckaback  (whereof  more  anon),  a  head 
dress  with  a  feather  never  seen  before  upon  Exmoor,  to  the 
best  of  every  one's  knowledge.  It  came  from  a  bird  called  a 
flaming  something  —  a  flaming  oh,  or  a  flaming  ah,  I  will  not 
be  positive  —  but  I  can  assure  you  that  it  did  flame ;  and  dear 
mother  had  no  other  thought,  but  that  all  the  congregation 
would  neither  see  nor  think  of  any  other  mortal  thing,  or 
immortal  even,  to  the  very  end  of  the  sermon. 

Herein  she  was  so  disappointed,  that  no  sooner  did  she  get 
home,  but  upstairs  she  went  at  speed,  not  even  stopping  at  the 
mirror  in  our  little  parlor,  and  flung  the  whole  thing  into  a 
cupboard,  as  I  knew  by  the  bang  of  the  door,  having  eased  the 
lock  for  her  lately.  Lorna  saw  there  was  something  wrong; 
and  she  looked  at  Annie  and  Lizzie  (as  more  likely  to  under- 
stand it)  with  her  former  timid  glance;  which  I  knew  so  well, 
and  which  had  first  enslaved  me. 

"  I  know  not  what  ails  mother,"  said  Annie,  who  looked  very 
beautiful,  with  lilac  lutestring  ribbons,  which  I  saw  the  Snowe 
girls  envying ;  "  but  she  has  not  attended  to  one  of  the  prayers, 
nor  said  'Amen,'  all  the  morning.  Never  fear,  darling  Lorna, 
it  is  nothing  about  you.  It  is  something  about  our  John,  I  am 
sure ;  for  she  never  worries  herself  very  much  about  any  body 
but  him."  And  here  Annie  made  a  look  at  me,  such  as  I  had 
had  five  hundred  of. 

"You  keep  your  opinions  to  yourself,"  I  replied;  because  I 
knew  the  dear,  and  her  little  bits  of  jealousy ;  "  it  happens  that 
you  are  quite  wrong,  this  time.  Lorna,  come  with  me,  my 
darling," 


A  :\IERRY  MEETING  A   SAD  ONE.  73 

"Oh  yes,  Lorna;  go  with  him;"  cried  Lizzie,  dropping  her 
lip,  in  a  way  which  you  must  see  to  know  its  meaning;  "John 
•wants  nobody  now  but  you ;  and  none  can  lind  fault  with  his 
taste,  dear." 

"You  little  fool,  I  should  think  not,"  I  answered  very 
rudely;  for,  betwixt  the  lot  of  them,  my  Lorna's  eyelashes 
were  quivering:  "now,  dearest  angel,  come  with  me;  and  snap 
your  hands  at  the  whole  of  them." 

My  angel  did  come,  with  a  sigh,  and  then  with  a  smile,  when 
we  were  alone ;  but  without  any  unangelic  attempt  at  snapping 
her  sweet  white  fingers. 

These  little  things  are  enough  to  show,  that  while  every  one 
so  admired  Lorna,  and  so  kindly  took  to  her,  still  there  would, 
just  now  and  then,  be  petty  and  paltry  flashes  of  jealousy  con- 
cerning her;  and  perhaps  it  could  not  be  otherwise  among  so 
many  women.  However,  we  were  always  doubly  kind  to  her 
afterwards ;  and  although  her  mind  was  so  sensitive  and  quick, 
that  she  must  have  suffered,  she  never  allowed  us  to  perceive 
it,  nor  lowered  herself  by  resenting  it. 

Possibly  I  may  have  mentioned  that  little  Ruth  Huckaback 
had  been  asked,  and  had  promised,  to  spend  her  Christmas 
with  us;  and  this  was  the  more  desirable,  because  she  had  left 
us  through  some  offence,  or  sorrow,  about  things  said  of  her. 
Xow  my  dear  mother,  being  tlie  kindest  and  best-hearted  of 
all  women,  could  not  bear  that  poor  dear  Ruth  (who  would 
some  day  have  such  a  fortune),  should  be  entirely  lost  to  us. 
"  It  is  our  duty,  my  dear  children, "  she  said  more  than  once 
about  it,  "  to  forgive  and  forget,  as  freely  as  we  hope  to  have 
it  done  to  us.  If  dear  little  Ruth  has  not  behaved  quite  as  we 
might  have  expected,  great  allowance  should  be  made  for  a 
girl  with  so  much  money.  Designing  people  get  hold  of  her, 
and  flatter  her,  and  coax  her,  to  obtain  a  base  influence  over 
her;  so  that  when  she  falls  among  simple  folk,  who  speak  the 
honest  truth  of  her,  no  wonder  the  poor  child  is  vexed,  and 
gives  herself  airs,  and  so  on.  Ruth  can  be  very  useful  to  us, 
in  a  number  of  little  ways;  and  I  consider  it  quite  a  duty  to 
pardon  her  freak  of  petulance." 

Now  one  of  the  little  ways  in  wliich  Ruth  liad  been  very 
useful,  was  the  purchase  of  the  scarlet  feathers  of  the  flaming 
bird;  and  now  that  the  house  was  quite  safe  from  attack,  and 
the  mark  on  my  forehead  was  healing,  I  was  begged,  over  and 
over  again,  to  go  and  see  Ruth,  and  make  all  things  straight, 
and  pay  for  the  gorgeous  plumage.  This  last  I  was  very  desir- 
ous to  do,  tliat  I  might  know  the  price  of  it,  having  made  a 


74  LOBNA  DOONE. 

small  bet  on  the  subject  with  Annie;  and  having  held  council 
with  myself,  whether  or  not  it  were  possible  to  get  something 
of  the  kind  for  Lorna,  of  still  more  distinguished  appearance. 
Of  course  she  could  not  wear  scarlet  as  yet,  even  if  I  had  wished 
it;  but  I  believed  that  people  of  fashion  often  wore  purple  for 
mourning ;  purple  too  was  the  royal  color,  and  Lorna  was  by 
right  a  queen ;  therefore  I  was  quite  resolved  to  ransack  Uncle 
Reuben's  stores,  in  search  of  some  bright  purple  bird,  if  nature 
had  kindly  provided  one. 

All  this  however  I  kept  to  myself,  intending  to  trust  Ruth 
Huckaback,  and  no  one  else  in  tlie  matter.  And  so,  one  beau- 
tiful spring  morning,  Avhen  all  the  earth  was  kissed  with  scent, 
and  all  the  air  caressed  with  song,  up  the  lane  I  stoutly  rode, 
well  armed,  and  well  provided. 

Now  though  it  is  part  of  my  life  to  heed,  it  is  not  part  of 
my  tale  to  tell,  how  the  wheat  was  coming  on,  I  reckon  that 
you,  who  read  this  story,  after  I  am  dead  and  gone  (and  before 
that  none  shall  read  it),  will  say,  "Tush!  What  is  his  wheat 
to  us?  We  are  not  wheat:  we  are  human  beings:  and  all  we 
care  for  is  human  doings."  This  may  be  very  good  argument, 
and  in  the  main,  I  believe  that  it  is  so.  Nevertheless,  if  a 
man  is  to  tell  only  what  he  thought  and  did,  and  not  what  came 
around  him,  he  must  not  mention  his  own  clothes,  which  his 
father  and  mother  bought  for  him.  And  more  than  my  own 
clothes  to  me,  ay  and  as  much  as  my  own  skin,  are  the  works 
of  nature  round  about,  whereof  a  man  is  the  smallest. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you,  although  most  likely  only  to  be 
laughed  at,  because  I  cannot  put  it  in  the  style  of  Mr.  Drydeu 
—  whom  to  compare  to  Shakespeare!  but  if  once  I  begin  upon 
that,  you  will  never  hear  the  last  of  me  —  nevertheless,  I  will 
tell  you  this ;  not  wishing  to  be  rude ;  but  only  just  because  I 
know  it;  the  more  a  man  can  fling  his  arms  (so  to  say)  round 
nature's  neck,  the  more  he  can  upon  her  bosom,  like  an  infant, 
lie  and  suck  —  the  more  that  man  shall  earn  the  trust,  and  love, 
of  all  his  fellow-men. 

In  this  matter  is  no  jealousy  (when  the  man  is  dead) ;  because 
thereafter  all  others  know  how  much  of  the  milk  he  had ;  and 
he  can  suck  no  longer ;  and  they  value  him  accordingly,  for  the 
nourishment  he  is  to  them.  Even  as  when  we  keep  a  roaster 
of  the  sucking  pigs,  we  choose,  and  praise  at  table  most,  the 
favorite  of  its  mother.  Fifty  times  have  I  seen  this,  and 
smiled,  and  praised  our  people's  taste,  and  offered  them  more 
of  the  vitals. 

Now  here  am,  I  upon  Shakespeare   (who  died,  of  his  own 


A   MERRY  MEETING  A   SAD   ONE.  75 

fruition,  at  tlie  age  of  fifty-two,  yet  lived  more  than  fifty 
thousand  men,  within  his  little  span  of  life),  when  all  the  while 
I  ought  to  be  riding  as  hard  as  I  can  to  Dulverton.  But,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  could  not  ride  hard,  being  held  at  every  turn, 
and  often  without  any  turn  at  all,  by  the  beauty  of  things 
around  me.  These  things  grow  upon  a  man,  if  once  he  stops  to 
notice  them. 

It  wanted  yet  two  hours  of  noon,  when  I  came  to  Master 
Huckaback's  door,  and  struck  the  panels  smartly.  Knowing 
nothing  of  their  manners,  only  that  people  in  a  town  could  not 
be  expected  to  entertain  (as  we  do  in  farm-houses),  liaving, 
moreover,  keen  expectation  of  Master  Huckaback's  avarice,  I 
had  brought  some  stuff  to  eat,  made  by  Annie,  and  packed  by 
Lorna,  and  requiring  no  thinking  about  it. 

Euth  herself  came  and  let  me  in,  blushing  very  heartily ;  for 
which  color  I  praised  her  health,  and  my  praises  heightened  it. 
That  little  thing  had  lovely  eyes,  and  could  be  trusted  thor- 
oughly. I  do  like  an  obstinate  little  woman,  when  she  is  sure 
that  she  is  right.  And  indeed  if  love  had  never  sped  me 
straight  to  the  heart  of  Lorna  (compared  to  whom,  Ruth  was 
no  more  than  the  thief  is  to  the  candle),  who  knows  but  what  I 
miglit  have  yielded  to  the  law  of  nature,  that  thorough  trimmer 
of  balances,  and  verified  tlie  proverb  that  the  giant  loves  the 
dwarf? 

"I  take  the  privilege.  Mistress  Euth,  of  saluting  you  accord- 
ing to  kinship,  and  the  ordering  of  the  Canons."  And  there- 
with I  bussed  her  well,  and  put  my  arm  around  her  waist, 
being  so  terribly  restricted  in  the  matter  of  Lorna,  and  know- 
ing the  use  of  practice.  Not  that  I  had  any  warmth  —  all 
that  was  darling  Lorna's  —  only  out  of  pure  gallantry,  and  my 
knowledge  of  London  fashions.  Euth  bluslied  to  such  a  pitch 
at  this,  and  looked  up  at  me  with  such  a  gleam,  as  if  I  must 
have  my  own  way;  that  all  my  love  of  kissing  sank,  and  I  felt 
that  I  was  wronging  her.  Only  my  mother  liad  told  me,  when 
the  girls  were  out  of  the  way,  to  do  all  I  could  to  please  dar- 
ling Euth,  and  I  had  gone  about  it  accordingly. 

Now  Euth  as  yet  had  never  heard  a  word  about  dear  Lorna; 
and  wlien  she  led  me  into  the  kitchen  (where  every  thing  looked 
beautil'iilj,  and  told  me  not  to  mind,  for  a  moment,  about  the 
scrubbing  of  my  boots,  because  she  would  only  be  too  glad  to 
clean  it  all  up  after  me,  and  told  me  how  glad  she  was  to  see 
me,  blusliing  more  at  every  word,  and  recalling  some  of  them, 
and  stooping  down  for  pots  and  ])ans,  when  T  looked  at  lier  too 
ruddily  —  all  tliesc;  things  camc!  upon  me  so,  without  any  legal 


76  LORN  A   BOONE. 

notice,  that  I  could  only  look  at  Euth,  and  think  how  very  good 
she  was,  and  how  bright  her  handles  were;  and  wonder  if  I 
had  wronged  her.  Once  or  twice,  I  began  —  this  I  say  upon 
my  honor  —  to  endeavor  to  explain  exactly,  how  we  were  at 
Plover's  Barrows ;  how  we  all  had  been  bound  to  fight,  and  had 
defeated  the  enemy,  keeping  their  queen  amongst  us.  But 
Ruth  would  make  some  great  mistake,  between  Lorna  and 
Gwenny  Carfax,  and  gave  me  no  chance  to  set  her  aright,  and 
cared  about  nothing  much,  except  some  news  of  Sally  Snowe. 

What  could  I  do  with  this  little  thing?  All  my  sense  of 
modesty,  and  value  for  my  dinner,  were  against  my  over  press- 
ing all  the  graceful  hints  I  had  given  about  Lorna.  Ruth 
was  just  a  girl  of  that  sort,  who  will  not  believe  one  word, 
except  from  her  own  seeing;  not  so  much  from  any  doubt,  as 
from  the  practice  of  using  eyes  which  have  been  in  business. 

I  asked  Cousin  Ruth  (as  we  used  to  call  her,  though  the 
cousinship  was  distant)  what  was  become  of  Uncle  Ben,  and  how 
it  was  that  we  never  heard  anything  of,  or  from  him,  now.  She 
replied  that  she  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  her  grandfather's 
manner  of  carrying  on,  for  the  last  half-year  or  more.  He  was 
apt  to  leave  his  home,  she  said,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night ; 
going  none  knew  whither,  and  returning  no  one  might  say 
when.  And  his  dress,  in  her  opinion,  was  enough  to  frighten 
a  hodman,  or  a  scavenger  of  the  roads,  instead  of  the  decent 
suit  of  kersey,  or  of  Sabbath  doeskin,  such  as  had  won  the 
respect  and  reverence  of  his  fellow-townsmen.  But  the  worst 
of  all  things  was,  as  she  confessed,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that 
the  poor  old  gentleman  had  something  weighing  heavily  on  his 
mind. 

"It  will  shorten  his  days,  Cousin  Eidd,"  she  said,  for  she 
never  would  call  me  Cousin  John;  "he  has  no  enjoyment  of 
any  thing  that  he  eats  or  drinks,  nor  even  in  counting  his 
money,  as  he  used  to  do  all  Sunday ;  indeed  no  pleasure  in  any 
thing,  unless  it  be  smoking  his  pipe,  and  thinking  and  staring, 
at  bits  of  brown  stone,  which  he  pulls,  every  now  and  then, 
out  of  his  pockets.  And  the  business,  he  used  to  take  such 
pride  in,  is  now  left  almost  entirely  to  the  foreman,  and  to  me." 

"And  what  will  become  of  you,  dear  Ruth,  if  any  thing 
happens  to  the  old  man?" 

"I  am  sure  I  know  not,"  she  answered  simply;  "and  I  can- 
not bear  to  think  of  it.  It  must  depend,  I  suppose,  upon  dear 
grandfather's  pleasure  about  me." 

"  It  must  rather  depend, "  said  I,  though  having  no  business 
to  say  it,  "upon  your  own  good  pleasure,  Ruth;  for  all  the 
world  will  pay  court  to  you." 


A   MERRY  MEETING  A   SAD   ONE.  77 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  which  I  never  couhl  endure.  I  have 
begged  dear  grandfather  to  leave  no  chance  of  that.  When  he 
has  threatened  me  with  poverty,  as  he  does  sometimes,  I  have 
always  met  him  truly,  with  the  answer,  that  I  feared  one  thing 
a  great  deal  worse  than  poverty;  namely,  to  be  an  heiress. 
But  I  cannot  make  him  believe  it.  Only  think  how  strange, 
Cousin  Ridd,  I  cannot  make  hini  believe  it!  " 

"It  is  not  strange  at  all,"  I  answered;  "considering  how  he 
values  money.  Neither  would  any  one  else  believe  you,  except 
by  looking  into  your  true,  and  very  pretty  eyes,  dear." 

Now  I  beg  that  no  one  will  suspect  for  a  single  moment, 
either  that  I  did  not  mean  exactly  what  I  said,  or  meant  a 
single  atom  more,  or  would  not  have  said  the  same,  if  Lorna 
had  been  standing  by.  What  I  had  always  liked  in  Ruth,  was 
the  calm  straightforward  gaze,  and  beauty  of  her  large  brown 
eyes.  Indeed  I  had  spoken  of  them  to  Lorna,  as  the  only  ones 
to  be  compared  (though  not  for  more  than  a  moment)  to  her 
own,  for  truth  and  light,  but  never  for  depth  and  softness. 
But  now  the  little  maiden  dropped  them,  and  turned  away 
without  reply. 

"I  will  go  and  see  to  my  horse,"  I  said;  "the  boy  that  has 
taken  him  seemed  surprised  at  his  having  no  horns  on  his 
forehead.  Perhaps  he  will  lead  him  into  the  shop,  and  feed 
him  upon  broadcloth." 

"Oh  he  is  such  a  stupid  boy,"  Ruth  answered  with  great 
sympathy :  "  how  quick  of  you  to  observe  that  now :  and  you 
call  yourself  '  Slow  John  Ridd! '  I  never  did  see  such  a  stupid 
boy;  sometimes  he  spoils  my  temper.  But  you  must  be  back 
in  half-an-hour,  at  the  latest.  Cousin  Ridd.  You  see  I  remem- 
ber what  you  are;  when  once  you  get  among  horses,  or  cows, 
or  things  of  that  sort." 

"Tilings  of  that  sort!  Well  done,  Ruth!  One  would  think 
you  were  quite  a  Cockney." 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  come  home  to  his  dinner;  and  his 
granddaughter  said  she  had  strictest  orders  never  to  expect 
him.  Tlierefore  we  had  none  to  dine  with  us,  except  the  fore- 
man of  the  shop,  a  worthy  man,  named  Thomas  Cockram,  fifty 
years  of  age  or  so.  He  seemed  to  me  to  have  strong  intentions 
of  liis  own  about  little  Ruth;  and  on  that  account  to  regard  me 
witli  a  wholly  undue  malevolence.  And  perhaps,  in  order  to 
justify  him,  I  may  have  Ix'cn  more  attentive  to  her  than 
otherwise  need  hav(!  been;  at  any  rate,  Ruth  and  T  were  pleas- 
ant; and  lie  tlie  very  opjjosite. 

"My  dear  Cousin  Rutli,"  I  said,  on   purpose  to  vex  Master 


78  LOENA  BOONE. 

Cockram,  because  he  eyed  us  so  heavily,  and  squinted  so 
unluckily,  "  we  have  long  been  looking  for  you,  at  our  Plover's 
Barrows  farm.  You  remember  how  you  used  to  love  hunting 
for  eggs  in  the  morning,  and  hiding  up  in  tlie  tallat  with 
Lizzie,  for  me  to  seek  you  among  the  hay,  when  the  sun  was 
down.  Ah,  Master  Cockram,  those  are  the  things  young  peo- 
ple find  their  pleasure  in,  not  in  selling  a  yard  of  serge,  and 
giving  twopence-halfpenny  change,  and  writing  'settled'  at 
the  bottom,  with  a  pencil  that  has  blacked  their  teeth.  Now, 
Master  Cockram,  you  ought  to  come  as  far  as  our  good  farm, 
at  once,  and  eat  two  new-laid  eggs  for  breakfast,  and  be  made 
to  look  quite  young  again.  Our  good  Annie  would  cook  for 
you;  and  you  should  have  the  hot  new  milk,  and  the  pope's 
eye  from  the  mutton ;  and  every  foot  of  you  would  become  a 
yard  in  about  a  fortnight."  And  hereupon,  I  spread  my  chest, 
to  show  him  an  example.  Kuth  could  not  keep  her  counte- 
nance :  but  I  saw  that  she  thought  it  wrong  of  me ;  and  would 
scold  me,  if  ever  I  gave  her  the  chance  of  taking  those  little 
liberties.  However,  he  deserved  it  all,  according  to  my  young 
ideas,  for  his  great  impertinence  in  aiming  at  my  cousin. 

But  what  I  said  was  far  less  grievous,  to  a  man  of  honest 
mind,  than  little  Eiith's  OAvn  behavior.  I  could  hardly  have 
believed  that  so  thoroughly  true  a  girl,  and  one  so  proud  and 
upright,  coiild  have  got  rid  of  any  man  so  cleverly  as  she  got 
rid  of  Master  Thomas  Cockram.  She  gave  him  not  even  a  glass 
of  wine,  but  commended  to  his  notice,  with  a  sweet  and 
thoughtful  gravity,  some  invoice  which  must  be  corrected, 
before  her  dear  grandfather  should  return;  and  to  amend 
which,  three  great  ledgers  must  be  searched  from  first  to  last. 
Thomas  Cockram  winked  at  me,  with  the  worst  of  his  two 
wrong  eyes;  as  much  as  to  say  "I  understand  it;  but  I  cannot 
help  myself.  Only  you  look  out,  if  ever"  —  and  before  he 
had  finished  winking,  the  door  was  shut  behind  him.  Then 
Ruth  said  to  me  in  the  simplest  manner,  "  You  have  ridden  far 
to-day.  Cousin  Eidd;  and  have  far  to  ride  to  get  home  again. 
What  will  dear  Aunt  Eidd  say,  if  we  send  you  away  without 
nourishment?  All  the  keys  are  in  my  keeping;  and  dear 
grandfather  has  the  finest  wine ;  not  to  be  matched  in  the  west 
of  England,  as  I  have  heard  good  judges  say;  though  I  know 
not  wine  from  cider.  Do  you  like  the  wine  of  Oporto,  or  the 
wine  of  Xeres?" 

"  I  know  not  one  from  the  other,  fair  cousin,  except  by  the 
color,"  I  answered;  *' but  the  sound  of  Oporto  is  nobler,  and 
richer.      Suppose  we  try  wine  of  Oporto." 


A   MERRY  MEETING  A    SAD   ONE.  79 

The  good  little  creature  went  and  fetched  a  black  bottle  of 
an  ancient  cast,  covered  with  dust  and  cobwebs.  These  I  was 
anxious  to  shake  aside;  and  indeed  I  thought  that  the  wine 
would  be  better  for  being  roused  up  a  little.  Ruth,  however, 
would  not  hear  a  single  word  to  that  purport;  and  seeing  that 
she  knew  more  about  it,  I  left  her  to  manage  it.  And  the 
result  was  very  fine  indeed,  to  wit,  a  sparkling  rosy  liquor, 
dancing  with  little  tiakes  of  liglit,  and  scented  like  new  violets. 
With  this  I  was  so  pleased  and  gay,  and  Ruth  so  glad  to  see 
me  gay,  that  we  quite  forgot  how  the  time  went  on;  and  though 
my  fair  cousin  would  not  be  persuaded  to  take  a  second  glass 
herself,  she  kept  on  hlling  mine  so  fast  that  it  was  never  empty, 
though  I  did  my  best  to  keep  it  so. 

"  What  is  a  little  drop  like  this  to  a  man  of  your  size  and 
strength.  Cousin  Ridd?  "  she  said,  with  her  cheeks  just  brushed 
with  rose,  which  made  her  look  very  beautiful;  "1  have  heard 
you  say  that  your  head  is  so  thick  —  or  rather  so  clear  you 
ought  to  say  —  that  no  liquor  ever  moves  it." 

"That  is  right  enough,"  I  answered;  "what  a  witch  you 
must  be,  dear  Rutli,  to  have  remembered  that  now!  " 

"  Oh,  I  remember  every  word  I  have  ever  heard  you  say. 
Cousin  Ridd;  because  your  voice  is  so  deep,  you  know,  and 
you  talk  so  little.  Now  it  is  useless  to  say  'no.'  These 
bottles  hold  almost  nothing.  Dear  grandfather  will  not  come 
home,  I  fear,  until  long  after  you  are  gone.  Wliat  will  Aunt 
Ridd  think  of  me,  I  am  sure?  You  are  all  so  dreadfully  hos- 
pitable. Now  not  another 'no, '  Cousin  Ridd.  We  must  have 
another  bottle." 

"Well,  must  is  must,"  I  answered  with  a  certain  resigna- 
tion. "  I  cannot  l^ear  bad  manners,  dear;  and  how  old  are  you 
next  birthday?" 

"Eigliteen,  dear  John,"  said  Ruth,  coming  over  with  the 
empty  bottle;  and  I  was  pleased  at  her  calling  me  "John," 
and  had  a  great  mind  to  kiss  her.  However  I  thought  of  my 
Lorna  suddenly,  and  of  the  anger  I  should  feel  if  a  man  went 
on  with  her  so;  therefore  I  lay  back  in  my  chair,  to  wait  for 
the  other  bottle. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  danced,  that  night? "  I  asked, 
while  she  was  opcming  it;  " and  how  you  were  afraid  of  me 
first,  because  I  looked  so  tall,  dear?  " 

"  Yes,  and  so  very  broad.  Cousin  Ridd.  I  thouglit  that  you 
would  eat  me.  liut  I  have  come  to  know,  since  then,  how  very 
kind  and  good  you  are." 

"  And  will  you  come  and  dance  again,  at  my  wedding,  Cousin 
Ruth?" 


80  LORN  A   BOONE. 

She  nearly  let  tlie  bottle  fall,  the  last  of  which  she  was  slop- 
ing carefully  into  a  vessel  of  bright  glass;  and  then  she  raised 
her  hand  again,  and  finished  it  judiciously.  And  after  that, 
she  took  the  window,  to  see  that  all  her  work  was  clear;  and 
then  she  poured  me  out  a  glass,  and  said  with  very  pale  cheeks, 
but  else  no  sign  or  meaning  about  her,  "  What  did  you  ask  me. 
Cousin  Kidd?" 

"Xothing  of  any  importance,  Euth;  only  we  are  so  fond  of 
you.  I  mean  to  be  married  as  soon  as  I  can.  Will  you  come 
and  help  us?" 

'•To  be  sure,  I  will,  Cousin  Eidd  —  unless,  unless,  dear 
grandfather  cannot  spare  me  from  the  business."  She  went 
away ;  and  her  breast  was  heaving,  like  a  rick  of  under-carried 
hay.  And  she  stood  at  the  window  long,  trying  to  make  yawns 
of  sighs. 

For  my  part,  I  knew  not  what  to  do.  And  yet  I  could  think 
about  it,  as  I  never  could  with  Lorna ;  with  whom  I  was  always 
in  a  whirl,  from  the  power  of  my  love.  So  I  thought  some 
time  about  it;  and  perceived  that  it  was  the  manliest  way,  just 
to  tell  her  every  thing;  except  that  I  feared  she  liked  me. 
But  it  seemed  to  me  unaccountable,  that  she  did  not  even  ask 
the  name  of  my  intended  wife.  Perhaps  she  thought  it  must 
be  Sally;  or  perhaps  she  feared  to  trust  her  voice. 

"  Come  and  sit  by  me,  dear  Euth ;  and  listen  to  a  long,  long 
story,  how  things  have  come  about  with  me." 

"Xo,  thank  you,  Cousin  Eidd,"  she  answered;  '•'at  least  I 
mean  that  I  shall  be  happy  —  that  I  shall  be  ready  to  hear  you 
—  to  listen  to  you,  I  mean  of  course.  But  I  would  rather  stay 
where  I  am,  and  have  the  air  —  or  rather  be  able  to  watch  for 
dear  grandfather  coming  home.  He  is  so  kind  and  good  to 
me.     What  should  I  do  without  him?" 

Then  I  told  her  how,  for  years  and  years,  I  had  been  in  love 
with  Lorna,  and  all  the  dangers  and  difficulties  which  had  so 
long  beset  us,  and  how  I  hoped  that  these  were  passing,  and  no 
other  might  come  between  us,  except  on  the  score  of  religion; 
upon  which  point  I  trusted  soon  to  overcome  my  mother's 
objections.  And  then  I  told  her  how  poor,  and  helpless,  and 
alone  in  the  world,  my  Lorna  was ;  and  how  sad  all  her  youth 
had  been,  until  I  brought  her  away  at  last.  And  many  other 
little  things  I  mentioned,  which  there  is  no  need  for  me  again 
to  dwell  upon.  Euth  heard  it  all  without  a  word,  and  without 
once  looking  at  me;  and  only  by  her  attitude  could  I  guess 
that  she  was  weeping.  Then  when  all  my  tale  was  told,  she 
asked  in  a  low  and  gentle  voice,  but  still  without  showing  her 
face  to  me, 


A  MERRY  MEETING  A   SAD   ONE.  81 

"And  does  she  love  you,  Cousin  Kidd?  Does  she  say  that 
she  loves  you,  with  —  with  all  her  heart?  " 

"  Certainly,  she  does,"  I  answered.  '" Do  you  think  it  impos- 
sible for  one  like  her  to  do  so?" 

She  said  no  more;  but  crossed  the  room  before  I  had  time  to 
look  at  her,  and  came  behind  my  chair,  and  kissed  me  gently 
on  the  forehead. 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  very  happy,  with  —  I  mean  in  your  new 
life,"  she  whispered  very  softly;  ''as  happy  as  you  deserve  to 
be,  and  as  happy  as  you  can  make  others  be.  ISJ^ow  how  I  have 
been  neglecting  you!  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  myself,  for  think- 
ing only  of  grandfather :  and  it  makes  me  so  low-spirited.  You 
have  told  me  a  very  nice  romance,  and  I  have  never  even  helped 
you  to  a  glass  of  wine.  Here,  pour  it  for  yourself,  dear  cousin; 
I  shall  be  back  again  directly." 

With  that  she  was  out  of  the  door  in  a  moment :  and  when 
she  came  back,  you  would  not  have  thought  that  a  tear  had 
dimmed  those  large  bright  eyes,  or  wandered  down  those  pale 
clear  cheeks.  Only  her  hands  were  cold  and  trembling:  and 
she  made  me  help  myself. 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  appear  at  all;  and  Ruth,  who  had 
promised  to  come  and  see  us,  and  stay  for  a  fortnight  at  our 
house  (if  her  grandfather  could  spare  her),  now  discovered, 
before  I  left,  that  she  must  not  think  of  doing  so.  Perhaps 
she  was  right  in  deciding  thus ;  at  any  rate  it  had  now  become 
improper  for  me  to  press  her.  And  yet  I  now  desired  tenfold 
that  she  should  consent  to  come,  thinking  that  Lorna  herself 
would  work  the  speediest  cure  of  her  passing  wliim. 

For  such,  I  tried  to  persuade  myself,  was  the  nature  of  Rtith's 
regard  for  me:  and  upon  looking  back  I  could  not  charge 
myself  with  any  misconduct  towards  the  little  maiden.  I  had 
never  sought  her  company,  I  had  never  trifled  with  her  (at 
least  until  that  very  day),  and  being  so  engrossed  with  my  own 
love,  I  had  scarcely  even  thought  of  her.  And  the  maiden 
would  never  have  thought  of  me,  except  as  a  clumsy  yokel,  but 
for  my  mother's  and  sister's  meddling,  and  their  wily  sugges- 
tions. I  believe  they  had  told  the  little  soul  that  I  was  deeply 
in  love  with  her;  although  they  both  stoutly  denied  it.  But 
who  can  place  trust  in  a  woman's  word,  when  it  comes  to  a 
question  of  match-making? 

VOL.  II.  —  6 


82  LOBNA  DOONE. 

CHAPTER  LI. 

A   VISIT   FROM    THE    COUNSELLOR. 

Now  while  I  was  riding  home  that  evening,  with  a  tender 
conscience  abont  Ruth,  although  not  a  wounded  one,  I  guessed 
but  little  that  all  my  thoughts  were  needed  much  for  my  own 
affairs.  So  however  it  proved  to  be;  for  as  I  came  in,  soon 
after  dark,  my  sister  Eliza  met  me  at  the  corner  of  the  cheese- 
room,  and  she  said,  "Don't  go  in  there,  John,"  pointing  to 
mother's  room;  "until  I  have  had  a  talk  with  you." 

"In  the  name  of  Moses,"  I  inquired,  having  picked  up  that 
phrase  at  Dulverton ;  "  what  are  you  at,  about  me  now?  There 
is  no  peace  for  a  quiet  fellow." 

"It  is  nothing  we  are  at,"  she  answered;  "neither  may  you 
make  light  of  it.  It  is  something  very  important  about  Mis- 
tress Lorna  Doone." 

"Let  us  have  it  at  once;"  I  cried:  "I  can  bear  anything 
about  Lorna,  except  that  she  does  not  care  for  me." 

"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  that,  John.  And  I  am  quite 
sure  that  you  never  need  fear  any  thing  of  that  sort.  She  per- 
fectly wearies  me  sometimes,  although  her  voice  is  so  soft  and 
sweet,  about  your  endless  perfections." 

"Bless  her  little  heart!  "  I  said:  "the  subject  is  inexhaust- 
ible." 

"No  doubt!"  replied  Lizzie,  in  the  driest  manner;  "espe- 
cially to  your  sisters.  However  this  is  no  time  to  joke.  I  fear 
you  will  get  the  worst  of  it,  Jolm.  Do  you  know  a  man  of 
about  Gwenny's  shape,  nearly  as  broad  as  he  is  long,  but  about 
six  times  the  size  of  Gwenny,  and  with  a  length  of  snow-white 
hair,  and  a  thickness  also ;  as  the  copses  were  last  winter.  He 
never  can  comb  it  that  is  quite  certain,  with  any  comb  yet 
invented." 

"  Then  go  you  and  offer  your  services.  There  are  few  things 
you  cannot  scarify.  I  know  the  man  from  your  description, 
although  I  have  never  seen  him.     Now  where  is  my  Lorna?  " 

"  Your  Lorna  is  with  Annie,  having  a  good  cry,  I  believe ; 
and  Annie  too  glad  to  second  her.  She  knows  that  this  great 
man  is  here,  and  knows  that  he  wants  to  see  her.  But  she 
begged  to  defer  the  interview,  until  dear  John's  return." 

"  What  a  nasty  way  you  have  of  telling  the  very  commonest 
piece  of  news ! "  I  said  on  purpose  to  pay  her  out.     "  What 


A    VISIT  FBOM  THE  COUNSELLOR.  83 

man  will  ever  fancy  you,  yon  unlucky  little  snapper?  Now, 
no  more  nursery  talk  for  me.  I  will  go  and  settle  this  busi- 
ness. You  had  better  go  and  dress  your  dolls ;  if  you  can  give 
them  clothes  unpoisoned."  Hereujion  Lizzie  burst  into  a  per- 
fect roar  of  tears;  feeling  that  she  had  the  worst  of  it.  And 
I  took  her  in  my  arms,  and  begged  her  pardon ;  although  she 
scarcely  deserved  it :  for  she  knew  that  I  was  out  of  luck,  and 
she  might  have  spared  her  satire. 

I  was  almost  sure  tliat  the  man  who  was  come  must  be  the 
Counsellor  himself;  of  whom  I  felt  much  keener  fear  than  of 
his  son  Carver.  And  knowing  that  his  visit  boded  ill  to  me 
and  Lorna,  I  went  and  sought  my  dear;  and  led  her  with  a 
heavy  heart,  from  the  maiden's  room  to  mother's,  to  meet  our 
dreadful  visitor. 

Mother  was  standing  by  the  door,  making  courtesies  now 
and  then,  and  listening  to  a  long  harangue  upon  the  rights  of 
state  and  land,  which  the  Counsellor  (having  found  that  she 
was  the  owner  of  her  property,  and  knew  nothing  of  her  title 
to  it)  was  encouraged  to  deliver.  My  dear  mother  stood  gaz- 
ing at  him,  spell-bound  by  his  eloquence,  and  only  hoping  that 
he  would  stop.  He  was  shaking  his  hair  upon  his  shoulders, 
in  the  power  of  his  words,  and  his  wrath  at  some  little  thing 
she  had  suffered,  which  he  declared  to  be  quite  illegal. 

Then  I  ventured  to  show  myself,  in  the  flesh,  before  him ; 
although  he  feigned  not  to  see  me :  but  he  advanced  with  zeal 
to  Lorna;  holding  out  both  hands  at  once. 

"My  darling  child,  my  dearest  niece;  how  wonderfully  Avell 
you  look!  Mistress  Ridd,  I  give  you  credit.  This  is  the 
country  of  good  things.  I  never  would  have  believed  our 
Queen  could  have  looked  so  Royal.  Surely  of  all  virtues,  hos- 
pitality is  the  finest,  and  the  most  romantic.  Dearest  Lorna, 
kiss  your  uncle;  it  is  quite  a  privilege." 

"Perhaps  it  is  to  you,  sir,"  said  Lorna,  who  could  never 
quite  check  her  sense  of  oddity;  "but  I  fear  that  you  have 
smoked  tobacco,  which  spoils  reciprocity." 

"  You  are  right,  my  child.  How  keen  your  scent  is.  It  is 
always  so  with  us.  Your  grandfatlier  was  noted  for  liis  olfac- 
tory powers.  Ah,  a  great  loss,  dear  Mrs.  Ridd,  a  terrible  loss 
to  this  neighborhood!  As  one  of  our  great  writers  says  —  I 
think  it  must  be  Milton  — '  We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  his  like 
again. ' " 

"With  your  good  leave,  sir,"  I  broke  in,  "Master  Milton 
could  never  liave  written  so  sweet  and  simple  a  line  as  that. 
It  is  one  of  the  great  Shakespeare." 


84  LOENA   DOONE. 

"  Woe  is  me  for  my  neglect ! "  said  the  Counsellor,  bowing 
airily;  "this  must  be  your  son,  Mistress  Eidd,  the  great 
John,  the  wrestler.  And  one  who  meddles  with  the  Muses ! 
Ah,  since  I  was  young,  how  every  thing  is  changed,  madam! 
Except  indeed  the  beauty  of  women,  which  seems  to  me  to 
increase  every  year."  Here  the  old  villain  bowed  to  my 
mother;  and  she  blushed,  and  made  another  courtesy,  and 
really  did  look  very  nice. 

"  Now  though  I  have  quoted  the  poets  amiss,  as  your  son 
informs  me  (for  which  I  tender  my  best  thanks,  and  must 
amend  my  reading),  I  can  hardly  be  wrong  in  assuming  that 
this  young  armiger  must  be  the  too  attractive  cynosure  to  our 
poor  little  maiden.  And  for  my  part,  she  is  welcome  to  him. 
I  have  never  been  one  of  those  who  dwell  upon  distinctions 
of  rank,  and  birth,  and  such  like;  as  if  they  were  in  the  heart 
of  nature,  and  must  be  eternal.  In  early  youth,  I  may  have 
thought  so,  and  been  full  of  that  little  pjride.  But  now  I 
have  long  accounted  it  one  of  the  first  axioms  of  political 
economy  —  you  are  following  me,  Mistress  Ridd?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  am  doing  my  best;  but  I  cannot  quite  keep  up 
with  you." 

"Never  mind,  madam;  I  will  be  slower.  But  your  son's 
intelligence  is  so  quick- 


a  ' 


I  see,  sir;  you  thought  that  mine  must  be.  But  no;  it  all 
comes  from  his  father,  sir.  His  father  was  that  quick  and 
clever " 

"  Ah,  I  can  well  suppose  it,  madam.  And  a  credit  he  is  to 
both  of  you.  Now  to  return  to  our  muttons  —  a  figure  which 
you  will  appreciate  —  I  may  now  be  regarded,  I  think,  as  this 
young  lady's  legal  guardian;  although  I  have  not  had  the 
honor  of  being  formally  appointed  such.  Her  father  was 
the  eldest  son  of  Sir  Ensor  Doone;  and  I  happened  to  be 
the  second  son ;  and  as  young  maidens  cannot  be  baronets,  I 
suppose  I  am  'Sir  Counsellor.'  Is  it  so.  Mistress  Ridd,  ac- 
cording to  your  theory  of  genealogy?" 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  sir;  "  my  mother  answered  care- 
fully :  "  I  know  not  any  thing  of  that  name,  sir,  except  in  the 
Gospel  of  Matthew:  but  I  see  not  why  it  should  be  otherwise." 

"  Good,  madam !  I  may  look  upon  that  as  your  sanction  and 
approval :  and  the  college  of  heralds  shall  hear  of  it.  And  in 
return,  as  Lorna's  guardian,  I  give  my  full  and  ready  con- 
sent to  her  marriage  with  your  son,  madam." 

"0  how  good  of  you,  sir,  how  kind!  Well,  I  always  did 
say,  that  the  learnedest  people  were,  almost  always,  the  best 
and  kindest,  and  the  most  simple-hearted." 


A    VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELLOR.  85 

"  Madam,  that  is  a  great  sentiment.  What  a  goodly  couple 
they  will  be !  and  if  we  can  add  him  to  our  strength " 

"Oh  no,  sir,  oh  no!"  cried  mother:  "you  really  must  not 
think  of  it.     He  has  always  been  brought  up  so  honest " 

"Hem!  that  makes  a  difference.  A  decided  disqualifica- 
tion for  domestic  life  among  the  Doones.  But,  surely,  he 
might  get  over  those  prejudices,  madam?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir !  he  never  can :  he  never  can  indeed.  When 
he  was  only  that  high,  sir,  he  could  not  steal  even  an  apple, 
when  some  wicked  boys  tried  to  mislead  him." 

"Ah,"  replied  the  Counsellor,  shaking  his  white  head 
gravely;  "then  I  greatly  fear  that  his  case  is  quite  incurable. 
I  have  known  such  cases;  violent  prejudice,  bred  entirely  of 
education,  and  anti-economical  to  the  last  degree.  And  when 
it  is  so,  it  is  desperate :  no  man  after  imbibing  ideas  of  that 
sort,  can  in  any  Avay  be  useful." 

"Oh  yes,  sir,  John  is  very  useful.  He  can  do  as  much 
work  as  three  other  men ;  and  you  should  see  him  load  a  sledd, 
sir." 

"I  was  speaking,  madam,  of  higher  usefulness, —  power  of 
the  brain  and  heart.  The  main  thing  for  us  upon  earth  is  to 
take  a  large  view  of  things.  But  while  we  talk  of  the  heart, 
what  is  my  niece  Lorna  doing,  that  she  does  not  come  and 
thank  me,  for  my  perhaps  too  prompt  concession  to  her  youth- 
ful fancies?  Ah,  if  I  had  wanted  thanks,  I  should  have  been 
more  stubborn." 

Lorna,  being  challenged  thus,  came  up  and  looked  at  her 
uncle,  with  her  noble  eyes  fixed  full  upon  his,  which  beneath 
his  white  eyebrows  glistened,  like  dormer  windows  piled  with 
snow. 

"For  what  am  I  to  thank  you,  uncle?" 

"  ]\ry  dear  niece,  I  have  told  you.  For  removing  the  heavi- 
est obstacle,  which  to  a  mind  so  well  regulated  could  possibly 
have  existed,  between  your  dutiful  self  and  the  object  of  your 
affections." 

"  Well,  uncle,  I  should  be  very  grateful,  if  I  thought  that 
you  did  so  from  love  of  me;  or  if  I  did  not  know  that  you 
have  something  yet  concealed  from  me." 

"And  my  consent,"  said  the  Counsellor,  "is  the  more  meri- 
torious, the  more  liberal,  frank,  and  candid,  in  the  face  of  an 
existing  fact,  and  a  very  clearly  established  one;  Avhich  might 
have  appeared  to  weaker  minds  in  the  light  of  an  impediment; 
but  to  my  loftier  view  of  matrimony  seems  quite  a  recommen- 
dation." 


86  LORNA   DOONE. 

"What  fact  do  you  mean,  sir?  Is  it  one  that  I  ought  to 
know?" 

"  In  my  opinion  it  is,  good  niece.  It  forms,  to  my  mind, 
so  fine  a  laasis  for  the  invariable  harmony  of  the  matrimonial 
state.  To  be  brief  —  as  I  always  endeavor  to  be  without  be- 
coming obscure  —  you  two  young  people  (ah,  what  a  gift  is 
youth!  one  can  never  be  too  thankful  for  it)  you  will  have 
the  rare  advantage  of  commencing  married  life,  with  a  sub- 
ject of  common  interest  to  discuss,  whenever  you  weary  of  — 
well,  say  of  one  another;  if  you  can  now,  by  any  means,  con- 
ceive such  a  possibility.  And  perfect  justice  meted  out: 
mutual  good-will  resulting,  from  the  sense  of  reciprocity." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir.  Why  can  you  not  say  what 
you  mean,  at  once?" 

"  My  dear  child,  I  prolong  your  suspense.  Curiosity  is  the 
most  powerful  of  all  feminine  instincts;  and  therefore  the 
most  delightful,  when  not  prematurely  satisfied.  However, 
if  you  must  have  my  strong  realities,  here  they  are.  Your 
father  slew  dear  John's  father,  and  dear  John's  father  slew 
yours." 

Having  said  thus  much,  the  Counsellor  leaned  back  upon 
his  chair,  and  shaded  his  calm  white-bearded  eyes  from  the 
rays  of  our  tallow  candles.  He  was  a  man  who  liked  to  look, 
rather  than  to  be  looked  at.  But  Lorna  came  to  me  for  aid; 
and  I  went  up  to  Lorna;  and  mother  looked  at  both  of  us. 

Then  feeling  that  I  must  speak  first  (as  no  one  would  begin 
it),  I  took  my  darling  round  the  waist,  and  led  her  up  to  the 
Counsellor ;  while  she  tried  to  bear  it  bravely ;  yet  must  lean 
on  me,  or  did. 

"Now,  Sir  Counsellor  Doone,"  I  said,  with  Lorna  squeez- 
ing both  my  hands,  I  never  yet  knew  how  (considering  that 
she  was  walking  all  the  time,  or  something  like  it) ;  "  you 
know  right  well,  Sir  Counsellor,  that  Sir  Ensor  Doone  gave 
approval."  I  cannot  tell  what  made  me  think  of  this:  but 
so  it  came  upon  me. 

"Approval  to  what,  good  rustic  John?  To  the  slaughter  so 
reciprocal?" 

"No,  sir,  not  to  that;  even  if  it  ever  happened;  which  I  do 
not  believe.  But  to  the  love  betwixt  me  and  Lorna;  which 
your  story  shall  not  break,  without  more  evidence  than  your 
word.  And  even  so,  shall  never  break;  if  Lorna  thinks  as 
I  do." 

The  maiden  gave  me  a  little  touch,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  you 
are  right,  darling;  give  it  to  him,  again,  like  that."     How- 


A    VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELLOR.  87 

ever,  I  held  my  peace,  well  knowing  tliat  too  many  words  do 
mischief. 

Then  mother  looked  at  me  with  wonder,  being  herself  too 
amazed  to  speak;  and  the  Counsellor  looked,  with  great  wrath 
in  his  eyes,  which  he  tried  to  keep  from  burning. 

"How  say  you  then,  John  Ridd,"  he  cried,  stretching  out 
one  hand,  like  Elijah;  "is  this  a  thing  of  the  sort  you  love? 
Is  this  what  you  are  used  to?  " 

"So  please  your  worship,"  I  answered;  "no  kind  of  vio- 
lence can  surprise  us,  since  first  came  Doones  upon  Exmoor. 
Up  to  that  time  none  heard  of  harm ;  except  of  taking  a  purse, 
may  be,  or  cutting  a  strange  sheep's  throat.  And  the  poor 
folk  who  did  this  were  hanged,  with  some  benefit  of  clergy. 
But  ever  since  the  Doones  came  first,  we  are  used  to  anything." 

"Thou  varlet,"  cried  the  Counsellor,  with  the  color  of  his 
eyes  quite  changed  with  the  sparkles  of  his  fury ;  "  is  this  the 
way  we  are  to  deal  with  sucli  a  low-bred  clod  as  thou?  To 
question  the  doings  of  our  people,  and  to  talk  of  clergy! 
What,  dream  you  not  that  we  could  have  clergy,  and  of  the 
right  sort  too,  if  only  we  cared  to  have  them?  Tush!  Am  I 
to  spend  my  time,  arguing  with  a  plough-tail  Bob?" 

"If  your  worsliip  will  hearken  to  me,"  I  answered  very 
modestly,  not  wishing  to  speak  harshly,  with  Lorna  looking 
up  at  me;  "there  are  many  things  that  might  be  said,  with- 
out any  kind  of  argument,  which  I  would  never  wish  to  try 
with  one  of  your  worship's  learning.  And  in  the  first  place 
it  seems  to  me  that  if  our  fathers  hated  one  another  bitterly, 
yet  neither  won  the  victory,  only  mutual  discomfiture ;  surely 
that  is  but  a  reason  why  we  should  be  wiser  than  they,  and 
make  it  up  in  this  generation  by  goodwill  and  loving " 

"  Oh,  John,  you  wiser  than  your  father !  "  mother  broke 
upon  me  here:  "not  but  what  you  might  be  as  wise,  when  you 
come  to  be  old  enf)ugli." 

"Young  people  of  the  present  age,"  said  the  Counsellor 
severely,  "have  no  right  feeling  of  any  sort,  upon  the  simplest 
matter.  Lorna  Doone,  stand  forth  from  contact  with  that 
heir  of  parricide;  and  state  in  your  own  mellifluous  voice, 
whether  you  regard  this  slaughter  as  a  pleasant  trifle." 

"You  know,  without  any  words  of  mine,"  she  answered  very 
softly,  yet  not  withdrawing  from  my  hand,  "that  although  I 
have  been  season(!d  well  to  every  kind  of  outrage,  among  my 
gentle  relatives,  I  have  not  yet  so  purely  lost  all  sense  of  riglit 
and  wrong,  as  to  i-cccive  wliat  you  liave  said,  as  lightly  as  you 
declared  it.      You  think  it  a  hapjjy  basis  for  our  future  con- 


88  LORNA   BOONE. 

cord.  I  do  not  quite  think  that,  my  uncle;  neither  do  I  quite 
believe  that  a  word  of  it  is  true.  In  our  happy  valley,  niue- 
tenths  of  what  is  said  is  false ;  and  you  were  always  wont  to 
argue,  that  true  and  false  are  but  a  blind  turned  u^on  a  pivot. 
Without  any  failure  of  respect  for  your  character,  good  uncle, 
I  decline  politely  to  believe  a  word  of  Avhat  yoi^have  told  me. 
And  even  if  it  were  proved  to  me,  all  I  can  say  is  this,  if  my 
John  will  have  me,  I  am  his  for  ever." 

This  long  speech  was  too  much  for  her;  she  had  over-rated 
her  strength  about  it,  and  the  sustenance  of  irony.  So  at  last 
she  fell  into  my  arms,  which  had  long  been  waiting  for  her; 
and  there  she  lay  with  no  other  sound,  except  a  gurgling  in 
her  throat. 

"You  old  villain,"  cried  my  mother,  shaking  her  fist  at  the 
Counsellor,  while  I  could  do  nothing  else  but  hold,  and  bend 
across,  my  darling,  and  whisper  to  deaf  ears;  "What  is  the 
good  of  the  Quality;  if  this  is  all  that  comes  of  it?  Out  of 
the  way!  You  know  the  words  that  make  the  deadly  mis- 
chief; but  not  the  ways  that  heal  them.  Give  me  that  bottle, 
if  hands  you  have;  what  is  the  use  of  Counsellors?" 

I  saw  that  dear  mother  was  carried  away ;  and  indeed  I  my- 
self was  something  like  it;  with  the  pale  face  upon  my  bosom, 
and  the  heaving  of  the  heart,  and  the  heat  and  cold  all  through 
me,  as  my  darling  breathed  or  lay.  Meanwhile  the  Counsel- 
lor stood  back,  and  seemed  a  little  sorry ;  althoi;gh  of  course 
it  was  not  in  his  power  to  be  at  all  ashamed  of  himself. 

"My  sweet  love,  my  darling  child,"  our  mother  went  on  to 
Lorna,  in  a  way  that  I  shall  never  forget,  though  I  live  to  be 
a  hundred;  "pretty  pet,  not  a  word  of  it  is  true,  upon  that 
old  liar's  oath:  and  if  every  word  were  true,  poor  chick,  you 
should  have  our  John  all  the  more  for  it.  You,  and  John, 
were  made  by  God  and  meant  for  one  another,  whatever  falls 
between  you.  Little  lamb,  look  up  and  speak:  here  is  your 
own  John,  and  I;  and  the  devil  take  the  Counsellor." 

I  was  amazed  at  mother's  words,  being  so  unlike  her;  while 
I  loved  her  all  the  more  because  she  forgot  herself  so.  In 
another  moment  in  ran  Annie,  ay  and  Lizzie  also,  knowing 
by  some  mystic  sense  (which  I  have  often  noticed,  but  never 
could  explain)  that  something  was  astir,  belonging  to  the 
world  of  women,  yet  foreign  to  the  eyes  of  men.  And  now 
the  Counsellor,  being  well-born,  although  such  a  heartless 
miscreant,  beckoned  to  me  to  come  away;  which  I,  being 
smothered  with  women,  was  only  too  glad  to  do,  as  soon  as 
my  own  love  would  let  go  of  me. 


A    VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELLOR.  89 

"That  is  the  worst  of  them,"  said  the  old  man,  when  I  had 
led  him  into  our  kitchen,  with  an  apology  at  every  step,  ana 
given  him  hot  schnapps  and  water,  and  a  cigarro  of  brave  Tom 
Faggus :  "  you  never  can  say  much,  sir,  in  the  way  of  reason- 
ing (however  gently  meant  and  put)  but  what  these  women 
will  fly  out.  It  is  wiser  to  put  a  wild  bird  in  a  cage,  and 
expect  him  to  sit  and  look  at  you,  and  chirp  without  a  feather 
rumpled,  than  it  is  to  expect  a  woman  to  answer  reason  rea- 
sonably." Saying  this,  he  looked  at  his  puff  of  smoke  as  if  it 
contained  more  reason. 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  I  answered  according  to  a 
phrase  which  has  always  been  my  favorite,  on  account  of  its 
general  truth :  moreover,  he  was  now  our  guest,  and  had  right 
to  be  treated  accordingly :  "  I  am,  as  you  see,  not  acquainted 
with  the  ways  of  women,  except  my  mother  and  sisters." 

"Except  not  even  them,  my  son,"  said  the  Counsellor,  now 
having  finished  his  glass,  without  much  consultation  about  it ; 
"  if  you  once  understand  your  mother  and  sisters  —  why  you 
understand  the  lot  of  them." 

He  made  a  twist  in  his  cloud  of  smoke,  and  dashed  his  fin- 
ger through  it,  so  that  I  could  not  follow  his  meaning,  and  in 
manners  liked  not  to  press  him. 

"Now  of  this  business,  John,"  he  said,  after  getting  to  the 
bottom  of  the  second  glass,  and  having  a  trifle  or  so  to  eat, 
and  praising  our  chimney-corner;  " taking  you  on  the  whole, 
you  know,  you  are  wonderfully  good  people:  and  instead  of 
giving  me  up  to  the  soldiers,  as  you  might  have  done,  you  are 
doing  your  best  to  make  me  drunk." 

"Not  at  all,  sir,"  I  answered;  "not  at  all,  your  worship. 
Let  me  mix  you  another  glass.  We  rarely  have  a  great  gen- 
tleman by  the  side  of  our  embers  and  oven.  I  only  beg  your 
pardon,  sir,  that  my  sister  Annie  (who  knows  where  to  find 
all  the  good  pans  and  the  lard)  could  not  wait  upon  you  this 
evening;  and  I  fear  they  have  done  it  with  dripping  instead, 
and  in  a  pan  with  the  bottom  burned.  But  old  Betty  quite 
loses  her  head  sometimes,  by  dint  of  over-scolding." 

"My  son,"  replied  the  Counsellor,  standing  across  the  front 
of  the  fire,  to  prove  his  strict  sobriety :  "  I  meant  to  come 
down  upon  you  to-night;  but  you  have  turned  the  tables  upon 
mo.  Not  through  any  skill  on  your  part,  nor  through  any 
paltry  weakness  as  to  love  (and  all  that  stuff,  which  boys  and 
girls  spin  tops  at,  or  knock  dolls'  noses  together),  but  through 
your  simjjle  way  of  taking  me,  as  a  man  to  be  believed:  com- 
bined with  the  comfort  of  this  place,  and  the  choice  tobacco, 


90  LORNA   BOONE. 

and  cordials.  I  have  not  enjoyed  an  evening  so  mucli :  God 
bless  me  if  I  know  when !  " 

"  Your  worship^"  said  I,  "  makes  me  more  proud  than  I  well 
know  Avhat  to  do  with.  Of  all  the  things  that  please  and  lead 
us  into  happy  sleep  at  night,  the  first  and  chiefest  is  to  think 
that  we  have  pleased  a  visitor." 

"  Then,  John,  thou  hast  deserved  good  sleep ;  for  I  am  not 
pleased  easily.  But  although  our  family  is  not  so  high  now 
as  it  hath  been,  I  have  enough  of  the  gentleman  left  to  be 
pleased  when  good  people  try  me.  My  father,  Sir  Ensor,  was 
better  than  I  in  this  great  element  of  birth,  and  my  son  Carver 
is  far  worse,  u^tas  iiarentum,  what  is  it,  my  boy?  I  hear 
that  you  have  been  at  a  grammar-school." 

"So  I  have,  your  worship,  and  at  a  very  good  one;  but  I 
only  got  far  enough  to  make  more  tail  than  head  of  Latin." 

"Let  that  pass,"  said  the  Counsellor:  "John,  thou  art  all 
the  wiser."  And  the  old  man  shook  his  hoary  locks,  as  if 
Latin  had  been  his  ruin.  I  looked  at  him  sadly,  and  won- 
dered whether  it  might  have  so  ruined  me,  but  for  God's  mercy 
in  stopping  it. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE    "WAY    TO    MAKE    THE    CREAM    RISE. 

That  night  the  reverend  Counsellor,  not  being  in  such 
state  of  mind  as  ought  to  go  alone,  kindly  took  our  best  old 
bedstead,  carved  in  panels,  well  enough,  with  the  woman  of 
Samaria.  I  set  him  up,  both  straight  and  heavy,  so  that  he 
need  but  close  both  eyes,  and  keep  his  mouth  just  open ;  and 
in  the  morning  he  was  thankful  for  all  that  he  could 
remember. 

I,  for  my  part,  scarcely  knew  whether  he  really  had  begun 
to  feel  good-will  towards  us,  and  to  see  that  nothing  else  could 
be  of  any  use  to  him ;  or  whether  he  was  merely  acting,  so  as 
to  deceive  us.  And  it  had  struck  me,  several  times,  that  he 
had  made  a  great  deal  more  of  the  spirit  he  had  taken  than 
the  quantity  would  warrant,  with  a  man  so  wise  and  solid. 
Neither  did  I  quite  understand  a  little  story  which  Lorna  told 
me,  how  that  in  the  night  awaking,  she  had  heard,  or  seemed 
to  hear,  a  sound  of  feeling  in  her  room ;  as  if  there  had  been 
some   one   groping   carefully   among   the   things    within   her 


THE   WAT  TO  MAKE  THE  CBEAM  RISE.  91 

drawers  or  wardrobe-closet.  But  the  noise  had  ceased  at  once, 
she  said,  when  she  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened;  and  knowing 
how  many  mice  we  had,  she  took  courage,  and  fell  asleep 
again. 

After  breakfast,  the  Counsellor  (who  looked  no  whit  the 
worse  for  schnapps,  but  even  more  grave  and  venerable)  fol- 
lowed our  Annie  into  the  dairy,  to  see  how  we  managed  the 
clotted  cream,  of  wliich  he  had  eaten  a  basinful.  And  there- 
upon they  talked  a  little ;  and  Annie  thought  him  a  fine  old 
gentleman,  and  a  very  just  one ;  for  he  had  nobly  condemned 
the  people  who  spoke  against  Tom  Faggus. 

"Your  honor  must  plainly  understand,"  said  Annie,  being 
now  alone  with  him,  and  spreading  out  her  light  quick  hands 
over  the  pans,  like  butterflies,  "that  tliey  are  brought  in  here 
to  cool,  after  being  set  in  tlie  basin-holes,  with  the  wood  ash 
under  them,  which  I  shoAved  you  in  the  back-kitchen.  And 
they  must  have  very  little  heat,  not  enough  to  simmer  even; 
only  just  to  make  the  bubbles  rise,  and  the  scum  upon  the  top 
set  thick:  and  after  that,  it  clots  as  firm, —  oh,  as  firm  as  my 
two  hands  be." 

"Have  you  ever  heard,"  asked  the  Counsellor,  who  enjoyed 
this  talk  with  Annie,  "  that  if  you  pass  across  the  top,  with- 
out breaking  the  surface,  a  string  of  beads,  or  polished  glass, 
or  any  thing  of  that  kind,  the  cream  will  set  three  times  as 
solid,  and  in  thrice  the  quantity?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  never  heard  that,"  said  Annie,  staring 
witli  all  her  simple  eyes;  "what  a  thing  it  is  to  read  books, 
and  grow  learned!  But  it  is  very  easy  to  try  it:  I  will  get 
my  coral  necklace;  it  will  not  be  witchcraft,  will  it,  sir?" 

"Certainly  not,"  the  old  man  replied:  "I  will  make  the  ex- 
periment myself,  and  you  may  trust  me  not  to  be  hurt,  ray 
dear.  But  coral  will  not  do,  my  child,  neither  will  any  thing 
colored.  The  beads  must  be  of  plain  common  glass;  but  the 
brighter  they  are  the  Ijetter." 

"Then  I  know  the  very  thing,"  cried  Annie;  "as  bright  as 
bright  can  be,  and  without  any  color  in  it,  except  in  the  sun 
or  candle-light.  Dearest  Lorna  has  the  very  thing,  a  necklace 
of  some  old  glass-l)eads,  or  I  think  tliey  called  tliem  jewels: 
slie  will  l>e  too  glad  to  lend  it  to  us.  I  will  go  for  it,  in  a 
moment." 

"  My  dear,  it  cannot  be  half  so  bright  as  your  own  pretty 
eyes.  But  remember  one  thing,  Annie,  you  must  not  say 
wliat  it  is  for;  or  even  that  I  am  going  to  use  it,  or  any  thing 
at  all  about  it;  els(i  the  charm  will  b(!  broken.  Bring  it  here, 
without  a  word;  if  you  know  where  slie  keeps  it." 


92  LORNA   BOONE. 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  she  answered;  "John  used  to  keep  it 
for  her.  But  she  took  it  away  from  him  last  week,  and  she 
wore  it  when  —  I  mean  when  somebody  was  liere;  and  he  said 
it  was  very  valuable,  and  spoke  with  great  learning  about  it, 
and  called  it  by  some  particular  name,  which  I  forget  at  this 
moment.  But  valuable,  or  not,  we  cannot  hurt  it,  can  we,  sir, 
by  passing  it  over  the  cream-pan?" 

"  Hurt  it !  "  cried  the  Counsellor :  "  nay,  we  shall  do  it  good, 
my  dear.  It  will  help  to  raise  the  cream :  and  you  may  take 
my  word  for  it,  young  maiden,  none  can  do  good  in  this  world, 
without  in  turn  receiving  it."  Pronouncing  this  great  senti- 
ment, he  looked  so  grand  and  benevolent,  that  Annie  (as  she 
said  afterwards)  could  scarce  forbear  from  kissing  him,  yet 
feared  to  take  the  liberty.  Therefore,  she  only  ran  away,  to 
fetch  my  Lorna's  necklace. 

Now  as  luck  would  have  it  —  whether  good  luck,  or  other- 
wise, you  must  not  judge  too  hastily, —  my  darling  had  taken 
it  into  her  head,  only  a  day  or  two  loefore,  that  I  was  far  too 
valuable  to  be  trusted  with  her  necklace.  Now  that  she  had 
some  idea  of  its  price  and  quality,  she  had  begun  to  fear  that 
some  one,  perhaps  even  Squire  Faggus  (in  whom  her  faith  was 
illiberal),  might  form  designs  against  my  health,  to  win  the 
bauble  from  me.  So,  with  many  pretty  coaxings,  she  had  led 
me  to  give  it  up;  which,  except  for  her  own  sake,  I  was  glad 
enough  to  do,  misliking  a  charge  of  such  importance. 

Therefore  Annie  found  it  sparkling  in  the  little  secret  hole, 
near  the  head  of  Lorna's  bed,  which  she  herself  had  recom- 
mended for  its  safer  custody;  and  without  a  word  to  any  one 
she  brought  it  down,  and  danced  it  in  the  air  before  the  Coun- 
sellor, for  him  to  admire  its  lustre. 

"  Oh,  that  old  thing!  "  said  the  gentleman,  in  a  tone  of  some 
contempt;  "I  remember  that  old  thing  well  enough.  How- 
ever, for  want  of  a  better,  no  doubt  it  will  answer  our  pur- 
pose. Three  times  three,  I  pass  it  over.  Crinkleum,  crankum, 
grass  and  clover!     What  are  you  feared  of,  you  silly  child?" 

"Good  sir,  it  is  perfect  witchcraft!  I  am  sure  of  that,  be- 
cause it  rhymes.  Oh,  what  would  mother  say  to  me?  Shall 
I  ever  go  to  heaven  again?     Oh,  I  see  the  cream  already!  " 

"  To  be  sure  you  do ;  but  you  must  not  look,  or  the  whole 
charm  will  be  broken,  and  the  devil  will  fly  away  with  the 
pan,  and  drown  every  cow  you  have  got  in  it." 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  is  too  horrible.  How  could  you  lead  me  to  such 
a  sin?     Away  with  thee,  witch  of  Endor!  " 

For  the  door  began  to  creak,  and  a  broom  appeared  suddenly 


THE   WAT  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  BISE.  93 

in  the  opening  witli  our  Betty,  no  doubt,  behind  it.  But 
Annie,  in  the  greatest  terror,  shimmed  the  door,  and  bolted  it, 
and  then  turned  again  to  the  Counsellor;  yet  looking  at  his 
face,  had  not  the  courage  to  reproach  him.  For  his  eyes  rolled 
like  two  blazing  barrels,  and  his  white  shagged  brows  were 
knit  across  them,  and  his  forehead  scowled  in  black  furrows, 
so  that  Annie  said  that  if  she  ever  saw  the  devil,  she  saw  him 
then,  and  no  mistake.  Whether  the  old  man  wished  to  scare 
her,  or  whether  he  was  trying  not  to  laugh,  is  more  than  I 
can  tell  you. 

"Now,"  he  said,  in  a  deep  stern  whisper;  "not  a  word  of 
this  to  living  soul:  neither  must  you,  nor  any  other  enter  this 
place  for  three  hours  at  least.  By  that  time  the  charm  will 
have  done  its  work :  the  pan  will  be  cream  to  the  bottom ;  and 
you  will  bless  me  for  a  secret  which  will  make  your  fortune. 
Put  the  bauble  under  this  pannikin;  which  none  must  lift  for 
a  day  and  a  night.  Have  no  fear,  my  simple  wench;  not  a 
breath  of  harm  shall  come  to  you,  if  you  obey  my  orders." 

"  Oh  that  I  will,  sir,  that  I  will :  if  you  only  tell  me  what 
to  do." 

"  Go  to  your  room,  without  so  much  as  a  single  word  to  any 
one.  Bolt  yourself  in,  and  for  three  hours  now,  read  the 
Lord's  Prayer  backwards." 

Poor  Annie  was  only  too  glad  to  escape,  upon  these  condi- 
tions; and  the  Counsellor  kissed  her  upon  the  forehead,  and 
told  her  not  to  make  her  eyes  red,  because  they  were  much 
too  sweet  and  pretty.  She  dropped  them  at  this,  with  a  sob 
and  a  courtesy,  and  ran  away  to  her  bedroom :  but  as  for 
reading  the  Lord's  Prayer  backwards,  that  was  much  beyond 
her;  and  she  had  not  done  three  words  quite  right,  before  the 
three  hours  expired. 

Meanwhile  the  Counsellor  was  gone.  He  bade  our  mother 
adieu,  with  so  much  dignity  of  bearing,  and  such  warmth  and 
gratitude,  and  the  high-bred  courtesy  of  the  old  school  (now 
fast  disappearing),  that  when  he  was  gone,  dear  mother  fell 
back  on  the  chair  which  he  had  used  last  night ;  as  if  it  would 
teach  her  the  graces.  And  for  more  than  an  hour,  she  made 
believe  not  to  know  what  there  was  for  dinner. 

"  Oh  the  wickedness  of  the  world!  Oh  tlie  lies  tliat  are  told 
of  people  —  or  rather  I  mean  the  falsehoods  —  becau.se  a  man 
is  better  born,  and  has  better  manners !  Why,  Lorna,  how  is 
it  that  you  nover  sjx'ak  a1)0ut  your  charming  uiich^?  Did  you 
notice,  Lizzie,  liow  liis  silver  hair  was  waving  iqjon  his  velvet 
collar,  and  how  white  his  hands  were,  and  every  nail  like  an 


94  LORNA   BOONE. 

acorn;  only  pink,  like  shell-fish,  or  at  least  like  shells?  And 
the  way  he  bowed,  and  dropped  his  eyes,  from  his  pure  respect 
for  me !  And  then,  that  he  would  not  even  speak,  on  account 
of  his  emotion;  but  pressed  my  hand  in  silence!  Oh  Lizzie, 
you  have  read  me  beautiful  things  about  Sir  Gallyhead,  and 
the  rest;  but  nothing  to  equal  Sir  Counsellor." 

"You  had  better  marry  him,  madam,"  said  I,  coming  in  very 
sternly;  though  I  knew  I  ought  not  to  say  it:  "he  can  repay 
your  adoration.     He  has  stolen  a  hundred  thousand  pounds." 

"John,"  cried  my  mother,  "you  are  mad!"  And  yet  she 
turned  as  pale  as  death;  for  women  are  so  quick  at  turning; 
and  she  inkled  what  it  was. 

"Of  course,  I  am,  mother;  mad  about  the  marvels  of  Sir 
Galahad.  He  has  gone  off  with  my  Lorna's  necklace.  Fifty 
farms  like  ours  can  never  make  it  good  to  Lorna." 

Hereupon  ensued  grim  silence.  Mother  looked  at  Lizzie's 
face,  for  she  could  not  look  at  me;  and  Lizzie  looked  at  me, 
to  know :  and  as  for  me,  I  could  have  stamped  almost  on  the 
heart  of  any  one.  It  was  not  the  value  of  the  necklace  —  I 
am  not  so  low  a  hound  as  that  —  nor  was  it  even  the  damned 
folly  shown  by  every  one  of  us  —  it  was  the  thought  of  Lorna's 
sorrow  for  her  ancient  plaything;  and  even  more,  my  fury  at 
the  breach  of  hospitality. 

But  Lorna  came  up  to  me  softly,  as  a  woman  should  always 
come ;  and  she  laid  one  hand  upon  my  shoulder ;  and  she  only 
looked  at  me.  She  even  seemed  to  fear  to  look,  and  dropped 
her  eyes,  and  sighed  at  me.  Without  a  word,  I  knew  by  that, 
how  I  must  have  looked  like  Satan;  and  the  evil  spirit  left 
my  heart;  when  she  had  made  me  think  of  it. 

"Darling  John,  did  you  want  me  to  think  that  you  cared 
for  my  money,  more  than  for  me?" 

I  led  her  away  from  the  rest  of  them,  being  desirous  of  ex- 
plaining things,  when  I  saw  the  depth  of  her  nature  opened, 
like  an  everlasting  well,  to  me.  But  she  would  not  let  me 
say  a  word,  or  do  any  thing  by  ourselves,  as  it  were:  she 
said,  "  Your  duty  is  to  your  mother :  this  blow  is  on  her,  and 
not  on  me." 

I  saw  that  she  was  right ;  though  how  she  knew  it  is  beyond 
me ;  and  I  asked  her  just  to  go  in  front,  and  bring  my  mother 
round  a  little.  For  I  must  let  my  passion  pass :  it  may  drop 
its  weapons  quickly ;  but  it  cannot  come  and  go,  before  a  man 
has  time  to  think. 

Then  Lorna  went  up  to  my  mother,  who  was  still  in  the  chair 
of  elegance;  and  she  took  her  by  both  hands,  and  said, — 


THE   WAY  TO  MAKE   THE  CBEAM  RISE.  95 

"  Dearest  mother,  I  shall  fret  so,  if  I  see  yoii  f rettmg.  And 
to  fret  "will  kill  me,  mother.     They  have  always  told  me  so." 

Poor  mother  bent  on  Lorna's  shoulder,  without  thought  of 
attitude,  and  laid  her  cheek  on  Lorna's  breast,  and  sobbed  till 
Lizzie  was  jealous,  and  came  with  two  pocket  handkerchiefs. 
As  for  me,  my  heart  was  lighter  (if  they  would  only  dry  their 
eyes,  and  come  roimd  by  dinner-time)  than  it  had  been  since 
the  day  on  which  Tom  Faggus  discovered  the  value  of  tliat 
blessed  and  cursed  necklace.  None  could  say  that  I  wanted 
Lorna  for  her  money  now.  And  perhaps  the  Doones  would  let 
me  have  her;  now  that  her  i)roperty  was  gone. 

But  who  shall  tell  of  Annie's  grief?  The  poor  little  thing 
would  have  staked  her  life  upon  finding  the  trinket,  in  all  its 
beauty,  lying  under  the  pannikin.  She  jiroudly  challenged 
me  to  lift  it  —  which  I  had  done,  long  ere  that,  of  course  —  if 
only  I  would  take  the  risk  of  the  spell  for  my  incredulity.  I 
told  her  not  to  talk  of  spells,  until  she  could  spell  a  word  back- 
wards ;  and  then  to  look  into  the  pan  where  the  cliarmed  cream 
should  be.  She  would  not  acknowledge  that  the  cream  was 
the  same  as  all  the  rest  was :  and  indeed  it  was  not  quite  the 
same,  for  the  points  of  poor  Lorna's  diamonds  had  made  a  few 
star-rays  across  the  rich  firm  crust  of  yellow. 

But  when  we  raised  the  pannikin,  and  there  was  nothing 
under  it,  poor  Annie  fell  against  the  wall,  which  had  been 
whitened  lately;  and  her  face  put  all  the  white  to  scorn.  My 
love,  who  was  as  fond  of  her,  as  if  she  had  known  her  for  fifty 
years,  hereupon  ran  up  and  caught  her,  and  abused  all  dia- 
monds. I  will  dwell  no  more  upon  Annie's  grief,  because  we 
felt  it  all  so  much.  But  I  could  not  help  telling  her,  if  she 
wanted  a  witch,  to  seek  good  Mother  Melldrum,  a  legitimate 
performer. 

That  same  night  Master  Jeremy  Stickles  (of  whose  absence 
the  Counsellor  must  have  known)  came  back,  with  all  equip- 
ment ready  for  the  grand  attack.  Now  the  Doones  knew,  quite 
as  well  as  we  did,  that  this  attack  was  threatening;  and  tliat, 
but  for  the  wonderful  weather,  it  would  have  been  made  long 
ago.  Therefore  we,  or  at  least  our  people  (for  I  was  doubtful 
aVjout  going),  were  sure  to  meet  with  a  good  resistance,  and 
due  preparation. 

It  was  very  strange  to  hear  and  see,  and  quite  impossible  to 
account  for,  that  now  some  hundreds  of  country  people  (who 
feared  to  w]iisy»er  so  nnich  as  a  word  against  the  Doones  a  year 
ago,  and  would  sortner  have  thought  of  attacking  a  clmrch,  in 
service  time,  than  Glen  Doone)  sharpened  their  old  cutlasses, 


96  LORNA  BOONE. 

and  laid  pitchforks  on  the  grindstone,  and  bragged  at  every 
village  cross,  as  if  each  would  kill  ten  Doones  himself,  neither 
care  to  wipe  his  hands  afterwards.  And  this  fierce  bravery, 
and  tall  contempt,  had  been  growing  ever  since  the  news  of 
the  attack  upon  our  premises  had  taken  good  people  by  sur- 
prise; at  least  as  concerned  the  issue. 

Jeremy  Stickles  laughed  heartily  about  Annie's  new  manner 
of  charming  the  cream ;  but  he  looked  very  grave  at  the  loss 
of  the  jewels,  so  soon  as  he  knew  their  value. 

"My  son,"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  very  heavy.  It  will  go 
ill  with  all  of  you  to  make  good  this  loss,  as  I  fear  that  you 
will  have  to  do." 

"What!  "  cried  I,  with  my  blood  running  cold.  "We  make 
good  the  loss,  Master  Stickles!  Every  farthing  we  have  in 
the  world,  and  the  labor  of  our  lives  to  boot,  will  never  make 
good  the  tenth  of  it." 

"It  would  cut  me  to  the  heart,"  he  answered,  laying  his 
hand  on  mine,  "to  hear  of  such  a  deadly  blow  to  you,  and  your 
good  mother.  And  this  farm ;  how  long,  John,  has  it  been  in 
your  family?" 

"  For  at  least  six  hundred  years, "  I  said,  with  a  foolish  pride 
that  was  only  too  like  to  end  in  groans ;  "  and  some  people  say, 
by  a  Royal  grant,  in  the  time  of  the  great  King  Alfred.  At 
any  rate,  a  Ridd  was  with  him,  throughout  all  his  hiding-time. 
We  have  always  held  by  the  King  and  Crown :  surely  none  will 
turn  us  out,  unless  we  are  guilty  of  treason?" 

"My  son,"  replied  Jeremy  very  gently,  so  that  I  could  love 
him  for  it,  "  not  a  word  to  your  good  mother  of  this  unlucky 
matter.  Keep  it  to  yourself,  my  boy,  and  try  to  think  but 
little  of  it.  After  all,  I  may  be  wrong :  at  any  rate,  least  said 
best  mended." 

"But  Jeremy,  dear  Jeremy,  how  can  I  bear  to  leave  it  so? 
Do  you  suppose  that  I  can  sleep,  and  eat  my  food  and  go  about, 
and  look  at  other  people,  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  happened? 
And  all  the  time  have  it  on  my  mind,  that  not  an  acre  of  all 
the  land,  nor  even  our  old  sheep-dog,  belongs  to  us  of  right  at 
all !  It  is  more  than  I  can  do,  Jeremy.  Let  me  talk,  and  know 
the  worst  of  it." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Master  Stickles,  seeing  that  both  the 
doors  were  closed;  "I  thought  that  nothing  could  move  you, 
John ;  or  I  never  would  have  told  you.  Likely  enough  I  am 
quite  wrong;  and  God  send  that  I  be  so.  But  what  I  guessed 
at  some  time  back  seems  more  than  a  guess,  now  that  you  have 
told  me  about  those  wondrous  jewels.  Now  will  you  keep  as 
close  as  death  every  word  I  tell  you?" 


THE    WAY  TO  MAKE   THE  CREAM  RISE.  97 

"  By  the  honor  of  a  man,  I  will.     Until  you  yourself  release 


me." 


"That  is  quite  enough,  John.  From  you  I  want  no  oath; 
which,  according  to  my  experience,  tempts  a  bad  man  to  lie 
the  more,  by  making  it  more  important.  I  know  you  now  too 
well  to  swear  you,  though  I  have  the  power.  Now,  my  lad, 
what  I  have  to  say  will  scare  your  mind  in  one  way,  and  ease 
it  in  another.  I  think  that  you  have  been  hard  pressed  —  I 
can  read  you  like  a  book,  John  —  by  something  which  that  old 
villain  said,  before  he  stole  the  necklace.  You  have  tried  not 
to  dwell  upon  it ;  you  have  even  tried  to  make  light  of  it  for 
the  sake  of  the  women :  but  on  the  whole  it  has  grieved  you 
more  than  even  this  dastard  robbery." 

"  It  would  have  done  so,  Jeremy  Stickles,  if  I  could  once 
have  believed  it.  And  even  without  much  belief,  it  is  so  against 
our  manners,  that  it  makes  me  miserable.  Only  think  of  lov- 
ing Lorna,  only  think  of  kissing  her;  and  then  remembering 
that  her  father  had  destroyed  the  life  of  mine !  " 

"  Only  think, "  said  Master  Stickles,  imitating  my  very  voice, 
"of  Lorna  loving  you,  John,  of  Lorna  kissing  you,  John;  and 
all  the  while  saying  to  herself,  'this  man's  father  murdered 
mine.'  Now  look  at  it  in  Lorna's  way,  as  well  as  in  your  own 
way.     How  one-sided  all  men  are!  " 

"  I  may  look  at  it  in  fifty  ways,  and  yet  no  good  will  come 
of  it.  Jeremy,  I  confess  to  you,  that  I  tried  to  make  the  best 
of  it;  partly  to  bafiie  the  Counsellor,  and  partly  because  my 
darling  needed  my  help,  and  bore  it  so,  and  behaved  to  me  so 
nobly.  But  to  you  in  secret,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  a 
woman  may  look  over  this,  easier  than  a  man  may." 

"  Because  her  nature  is  larger,  my  son,  when  she  truly  loves; 
although  her  mind  be  smaller.  Now  if  I  can  ease  you  from 
this  secret  burden,  will  you  bear,  with  strength  and  courage, 
the  other  which  I  plant  on  you?  " 

"I  will  do  my  best,"  said  I. 

"No  man  can  do  more,"  said  he;  and  so  began  his  story. 
VOL.  n.  —  7 


98  LORNA  DOONE. 

CHAPTER   LIII. 

JEREMY    FINDS    OUT    SOMETHING. 

"You  know,  my  son,"  said  Jeremy  Stickles,  with  a  good 
pull  at  his  pipe,  because  he  was  going  to  talk  so  much,  and 
putting  his  legs  well  along  in  the  settle ;  "  it  has  been  my  duty, 
for  a  wearier  time  than  I  care  to  think  of  (and  which  would 
have  been  unbearable,  except  for  your  great  kindness),  to  search 
this  neighborhood  narrowly,  and  learn  every  thing  about  every 
body.  Now  the  neighborhood  itself  is  queer;  and  people  have 
different  ways  of  thinking  from  what  we  are  used  to  in  London. 
For  instance  now,  among  your  folk,  when  any  piece  of  news  is 
told,  or  any  man's  conduct  spoken  of,  the  very  first  question 
that  arises  in  your  minds  is  this  —  'Was  this  action  kind  and 
good?  '  Long  after  that  you  say  to  yourselves,  'Does  the  law 
enjoin  or  forbid  this  thing?'  Now  here  is  your  fundamental 
error :  for  among  all  truly  civilized  people  the  foremost  of  all 
questions  is,  'how  stands  the  law  herein?'  And  if  the  law 
approve,  no  need  for  any  further  questioning.  That  this  is  so, 
you  may  take  my  word :  for  I  know  the  law  pretty  thoroughly. 

"Very  well;  I  need  not  say  any  more  about  that,  for  I  have 
shown  that  you  are  all  quite  wrong.  I  only  speak  of  this 
savage  tendency,  because  it  explains  so  many  things  which 
have  puzzled  me  among  you,  and  most  of  all  your  kindness  to 
men  whom  you  never  saw  before ;  which  is  an  utterly  illegal 
thing.  It  also  explains  your  toleration  of  these  outlaw  Doones 
so  long.  If  your  views  of  law  had  been  correct,  and  law  an 
element  of  your  lives,  these  robbers  could  never  have  been 
indulged  for  so  many  years  amongst  you :  but  you  must  have 
abated  the  nuisance." 

"Now,  Stickles,"  I  cried,  "this  is  too  bad!  "  he  was  deliver- 
ing himself  so  grandly.  "  Why  you  yourself  have  been  amongst 
us,  as  the  balance,  and  sceptre,  and  sword  of  law,  for  nigh  upon 
a  twelvemonth;  and  have  you  abated  the  nuisance,  or  even 
cared  to  do  it,  until  they  began  to  shoot  at  you?" 

"My  son,"  he  replied,  "your  argument  is  quite  beside  the 
purpose,  and  only  tends  to  prove  more  clearly  that  which  I 
have  said  of  you.  However,  if  you  wish  to  hear  my  story,  no 
more  interruptions.  I  may  not  have  a  chance  to  tell  you,  per- 
haps for  weeks,  or  I  know  not  when ;  if  once  those  yellows  and 
reds  arrive,  and  be  blessed  to  them,  the  lubbers !     Well,  it  may 


•u 


'You     KNOW,     MV     SON,'     SAID     JkRKM'S'     SlICKLliS.     WITH     A     GOOD 
PUI  L     AT     HIS     I'll'K."  —  Vol.    II.    p.    98. 


JEREMY  FINDS   OUT  SOMETHING.  99 

be  six  months  ago,  or  it  may  be  seven,  at  any  rate  a  good  while 
before  that  cursed  frost  began,  the  mere  name  of  whicli  sends 
a  shiver  down  every  bone  of  my  body,  when  I  was  riding  one 
afternoon  from  Dulverton  to  Watchett " 

"Dulverton  to  Watchett!"  I  cried.  "Now  what  does  that 
remind  me  of?     I  am  sure,  I  remember  something " 

"Remember  this,  John,  if  any  thing  —  that  another  word 
from  thee,  and  thou  hast  no  more  of  mine.  Well,  I  was  a 
little  weary  perhaps,  having  been  plagued  at  Dulverton  with 
the  grossness  of  the  people.  For  they  would  tell  me  nothing 
at  all  about  their  fellow  townsman,  your  worthy  Uncle  Huck- 
aback, except  that  he  was  a  God-fearing  man,  and  they  only 
wished  I  was  like  him.  I  blessed  myself  for  a  stupid  fool,  in 
thinking  to  have  pumped  them:  for  by  this  time  I  might  have 
known  that,  through  your  Western  homeliness,  every  man  in 
his  own  country  is  something  more  than  a  prophet.  And  I 
felt,  of  course,  that  I  had  done  more  harm  than  good  by  ques- 
tioning ;  inasmuch  as  every  soul  in  the  place  would  run  straight- 
way, and  inform  him  that  tlie  King's  man,  from  the  other  side 
of  the  forest,  had  been  sifting  out  his  ways  and  works." 

"Ah,"  I  cried,  for  I  could  not  help  it;  "you  begin  to  under- 
stand us  at  last,  that  we  are  not  quite  such  a  set  of  oafs,  as  you 
at  first  believed  us." 

"I  was  riding  on  from  Dulverton,"  he  resumed  with  great 
severity,  yet  threatening  me  no  more,  which  checked  me  more 
than  fifty  threats :  "  and  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  was 
growing  weary.  The  road  (if  road  it  could  be  called)  turned 
suddenly  down  from  the  higher  land  to  the  very  brink  of  the 
sea;  and  rounding  a  little  jut  of  cliff  I  met  the  roar  of  the 
breakers.  My  horse  was  scared,  and  leaped  aside;  for  a 
northerly  wind  was  piping,  and  driving  hunks  of  foam  across, 
as  children  scatter  snow-balls.  But  he  only  sank  to  liis  fet- 
locks in  the  dry  sand,  piled  with  pop-weed;  and  I  tried  to 
make  him  face  the  waves;  and  then  I  looked  about  me. 

"Watchett  town  was  not  to  be  seen,  on  account  of  a  little 
foreland,  a  mile  or  more  upon  my  course,  and  standing  to  the 
right  of  me.  There  was  room  enough  below  the  cliffs  (which 
are  nothing  there  to  yours,  John)  for  horse  and  man  to  get 
along,  altliough  the  tide  was  running  high  with  a  northerly 
gale  to  back  it.  But  close  at  hand  and  in  tlie  corner,  drawn 
above  the  yellow  sands  and  long  eyebrows  of  wrack-weed,  as 
snug  a  little  house  l)linked  on  me  as  ever  I  saw,  or  wished  to  see. 

"  You  know  that  T  ain  not  luxurious,  neither  in  any  way 
given  to  the  common  lusts  of  tin;  lii'sh,  John.     My  father  never 


100  LORNA   BOONE. 

allowed  his  hair  to  grow  a  fourth  part  of  an  inch  in  length,  and 
he  was  a  thoroughly  godly  man;  and  I  tried  to  follow  in  his 
footsteps,  whenever  I  think  about  it.  jS^evertheless  I  do  assure 
you  that  my  view  of  that  little  house,  and  the  way  the  lights 
were  twinkling,  so  different  from  the  cold  and  darkness  of 
the  rolling  sea,  moved  the  ancient  Adam  in  me,  if  he  could  be 
found  to  move.  I  love  not  a  house  with  too  many  windows : 
being  out  of  house  and  doors  some  three  quarters  of  my  time, 
when  I  get  inside  a  house  I  like  to  feel  the  difference.  Air 
and  light  are  good  for  people  who  have  any  lack  of  them ;  and 
if  a  man  once  talks  about  them,  'tis  enough  to  prove  his  need 
of  them.  But,  as  you  well  know,  John  Kidd,  the  horse  who 
has  been  at  work  all  day,  with  the  sunshine  on  his  eyes,  sleeps 
better  in  dark  stable,  and  needs  no  moon  to  help  him. 

"  Seeing  therefore  that  this  same  inn  had  four  windows,  and 
no  more,  I  thought  to  myself  how  snug  it  was,  and  how  beauti- 
fully I  could  sleep  there.  And  so  I  made  the  old  horse  draw 
hand,  which  he  was  only  too  glad  to  do,  and  we  clomb  above 
the  spring-tide  mark,  and  over  a  little  piece  of  turf,  and 
struck  the  door  of  the  hostelry.  Some  one  came,  and  peeped 
ttt  me  through  the  lattice  overhead,  which  was  full  of  bulls' 
eyes ;  and  then  the  bolt  was  drawn  back,  and  a  woman  met  me 
very  courteously.  A  dark  and  foreign-looking  woman,  very 
hot  of  blood,  I  doubt,  but  not  altogether  a  bad  one.  And  she 
waited  for  me  to  be  first  to  speak,  which  an  Englishwoman 
would  not  have  done. 

"  'Can  I  rest  here  for  the  night? '  I  asked,  with  a  lift  of  my 
hat  to  her;  for  she  was  no  provincial  dame,  who  would  stare 
at  me  for  the  courtesy:  'my  horse  is  weary  from  the  sloughs, 
and  myself  but  little  better :  besides  that,  we  both  are  fam- 
ished.' 

'"Yes,  sir,  you  can  rest  and  welcome.  But  of  food,  I  fear, 
there  is  but  little,  unless  of  the  common  order.  Our  fishers 
would  have  drawn  the  nets,  but  the  waves  were  violent.  How- 
ever, we  have  —  what  you  call  it?  I  never  can  remember,  it  is 
so  hard  to  say  —  the  flesh  of  the  hog  salted. ' 

"'Bacon!'  said  I;  'what  can  be  better?  And  half-a-dozen 
eggs  with  it,  and  a  quart  of  fresh-drawn  ale.  You  make  me 
rage  with  hunger,  madam.     Is  it  cruelty,  or  hospitality? ' 

"'Ah,  good! '  she  replied  with  a  merry  smile,  full  of  south- 
ern sunshine:  'you  are  not  of  the  men  round  here:  you  can 
think,  and  you  can  laugh ! ' 

"'And  most  of  all,  I  can  eat,  good  madam.  In  that  way  I 
shall  astonish  you;  even  more  than  by  my  intellect.' 


JEREMY  FINDS   OUT  SOMETHING.  101 

"She  lauglied  aloud,  and  swung  her  shoulders,  as  your 
natives  cannot  do;  and  then  she  called  a  little  maid,  to  lead 
my  horse  to  stable.  However  I  preferred  to  see  that  matter 
done  myself,  and  told  her  to  send  the  little  maid  for  the  frying 
pan  and  the  egg-box. 

"Whether  it  were  my  natural  wit  and  elegance  of  manner; 
or  whether  it  were  my  London  freedom  and  knowledge  of  the 
world;  or  (which  is  perhaps  the  most  probable,  because  the 
least  pleasing  supposition)  my  ready  and  permanent  appetite, 
and  appreciation  of  garlic  —  I  leave  you  to  decide,  John :  but 
perhaps  all  three  combined  to  recommend  me  to  the  graces  of 
my  charming  hostess.  When  I  say  'charming,'  I  mean  of 
course  by  manners  and  by  intelligence,  and  most  of  all  by  cook- 
ing; for  as  regards  external  charms  (most  fleeting  and  falla- 
cious) hers  had  ceased  to  cause  distress,  for  I  cannot  say  how 
many  years.  She  said  that  it  was  the  climate  —  for  even  upon 
that  subject  she  requested  my  opinion  —  and  I  answered,  'if 
there  be  a  change,  let  madam  blame  the  seasons.' 

"  However,  not  to  dwell  too  much  upon  our  little  pleasantries 
(for  I  always  get  on  with  these  foreign  women,  better  than 
with  your  Molls  and  Pegs),  I  became  not  inquisitive,  but  rea- 
sonably desirous  to  know,  by  what  strange  hap  or  hazard  a 
clever  and  a  handsome  woman,  as  she  must  have  been  some 
day,  a  woman  moreover  with  great  contempt  for  the  rustic 
minds  around  her,  could  have  settled  here  in  this  lonely  inn, 
with  only  the  waves  for  company,  and  a  boorish  husband  who 
slaved  all  day  in  turning  a  poUer's  wheel  at  Watchett.  And 
what  was  the  meaning  of  the  emblem  set  above  her  doorway, 
a  very  unattractive  cat  sitting  in  a  ruined  tree? 

"However,  I  had  not  very  long  to  strain  my  curiosity;  for 
when  she  found  out  who  I  was,  and  how  I  held  the  King's 
commission,  and  might  be  called  an  officer,  her  desire  to  tell 
me  all  was  more  than  equal  to  mine  of  hearing  it.  Many  and 
many  a  day,  she  had  longed  for  some  one  both  skilful  and 
trustworthy,  most  of  all  for  some  one  bearing  warrant  from  a 
court  of  justice.  But  the  magistrates  of  the  neighborhood 
would  have  nothing  to  say  to  her,  declaring  that  she  was  a 
crack-brained  woman,  and  a  wicked,  and  even  a  foreign  one. 

"  With  many  grimaces,  she  assured  me  that  never  by  her 
own  fre(;  will  would  she  have  lived  so  many  years  in  that  hate- 
ful country,  where  the  sky  for  half  the  year  was  fog,  and  rain 
for  nearly  the  other  half.  It  was  so  the  very  night  when  first 
her  evil  fortune  brought  her  there;  and  so  no  doubt  it  would 
be,  long  after  it  had  killed  her.     I3ut  if  I  wished  to  know  the 


102  LOBNA   DOONE. 

reason  of  her  being  tliere,  she  would  tell  me  in  few  words, 
which  I  will  repeat  as  briefly. 

"  By  birth  she  was  an  Italian,  from  the  mountains  of  Apulia, 
who  had  gone  to  Rome  to  seek  her  fortunes,  after  being  badly 
treated  in  some  love  affair.  Her  Christian  name  was  Benita; 
as  for  her  surname,  that  could  make  no  difference  to  any  one. 
Being  a  quick  and  active  girl,  and  resolved  to  work  down  her 
troubles,  she  found  employment  in  a  large  hotel;  and  rising 
gradually,  began  to  send  money  to  her  parents.  And  here  she 
might  have  thriven  well,  and  married  well  under  sunny  skies, 
and  been  a  happy  woman,  but  that  some  black  day  sent  thither 
a  rich  and  noble  English  family,  eager  to  behold  the  Pope.  It 
was  not  however  their  fervent  longing  for  the  Holy  Father 
which  had  brought  them  to  St.  Peter's  roof;  but  rather  their 
own  bad  luck  in  making  their  home  too  hot  to  hold  them.  For 
although  in  the  main  good  Catholics,  and  pleasant  receivers  of 
any  thing,  one  of  their  number  had  given  offence,  by  the  folly 
of  trying  to  think  for  himself.  Some  bitter  feud  had  been 
among  them,  Benita  knew  not  how  it  was;  and  the  sister  of 
the  nobleman  who  had  died  quite  lately  was  married  to  the 
rival  claimant,  whom  they  all  detested.  It  was  something 
about  dividing  land;  Benita  knew  not  what  it  was. 

"  But  this  Benita  did  know,  that  they  were  all  great  people, 
and  rich,  and  very  liberal ;  so  that  when  they  offered  to  take 
her,  to  attend  to  the  children,  and  to  speak  the  language  for 
them,  and  to  comfort  the  lady,  she  was  only  too  glad  to  go,  little 
foreseeing  the  end  of  it.  Moreover  she  loved  the  children  so, 
from  their  pretty  ways  and  that,  and  the  things  they  gave  her, 
and  the  style  of  their  dresses,  that  it  would  have  broken  her 
heart  almost  never  to  see  the  dears  again. 

"  And  so,  in  a  very  evil  hour,  she  accepted  the  service  of  the 
noble  Englishman,  and  sent  her  father  an  old  shoe  filled  to  the 
tongue  with  money,  and  trusted  herself  to  fortune.  But  even 
before  she  went,  she  knew  that  it  could  not  turn  out  well ;  for 
the  laurel  leaf  which  she  threw  on  the  fire  would  not  crackle 
even  once,  and  the  horn  of  the  goat  came  wrong  in  the  twist, 
and  the  heel  of  her  foot  was  shining.  This  made  her  sigh  at 
the  starting-time;  and  after  that,  what  could  you  hope  for? 

"  However,  at  first  all  things  went  well.  My  Lord  was  as 
gay  as  gay  could  be :  and  never  would  come  inside  the  carriage, 
when  a  decent  horse  could  be  got  to  ride.  He  would  gallop  in 
front,  at  a  reckless  pace,  without  a  weapon  of  any  kind,  de- 
lighted with  the  pure  blue  air,  and  throwing  his  heart  around 
him.     Benita  had  never  seen  any  man  so  admirable,  and  so 


JEREMY  FINDS   OUT  SOMETHING.  103 

childish.  As  innocent  as  an  infant;  and  not  only  contented, 
but  noisily  happy  with  any  thing.  Only  other  people  must 
share  his  joy;  and  the  shadow  of  sorrow  scattered  it,  though 
it  were  but  the  shade  of  poverty. 

"  Here  Benita  wept  a  little ;  and  I  liked  her  none  the  less, 
and  believed  her  ten  times  more ;  in  virtue  of  a  tear  or  two. 

"  And  so  they  travelled  through  Northern  Italy,  and  through- 
out the  south  of  France,  making  their  way  anyhow ;  sometimes 
in  coaches,  sometimes  in  carts,  sometimes  upon  mule-back, 
sometimes  even  a-foot  and  weary;  but  always  as  happy  as 
could  be.  The  children  laughed,  and  grew,  and  throve  (espe- 
cially the  young  lady,  the  elder  of  the  two),  and  Benita  began 
to  think  that  omens  must  not  be  relied  upon.  But  suddenly 
her  faith  in  omens  was  confirmed  for  ever. 

"  My  Lord,  who  was  quite  a  young  man  still,  and  laughed  at 
English  arrogance,  rode  on  in  front  of  his  wife  and  friends,  to 
catch  the  first  of  a  famous  view,  on  the  French  side  of  the 
Pyrenee  hills.  He  kissed  his  hand  to  his  wife,  and  said  that 
he  would  save  her  the  trouble  of  coming.  For  those  two  were 
so  one  in  one,  that  they  could  make  each  other  know,  whatever 
he,  or  she,  had  felt.  And  so  my  Lord  went  round  the  corner, 
with  a  fine  young  horse  leaping  up  at  every  step. 

"They  waited  for  him,  long  and  long;  but  he  never  came 
again;  and  within  a  week,  his  mangled  body  lay  in  a  little 
chapel-yard;  and  if  the  priests  only  said  a  quarter  of  the 
prayers  they  took  the  money  for,  God  knows  they  can  have  no 
throats  left;  only  a  relaxation. 

"  My  Lady  dwelled  for  six  months  more  —  it  is  a  melancholy 
tale  (what  true  tale  is  not  so?)  —  scarcely  able  to  believe  that 
all  her  fright  was  not  a  dream.  She  would  not  wear  a  piece, 
or  shape,  of  any  mourning-clothes ;  she  would  not  have  a  per- 
son cry,  or  any  sorrow  among  us.  She  simply  disbelieved  the 
thing,  and  trusted  God  to  right  it.  The  Protestants,  who  have 
no  faith,  cannot  understand  this  feeling.  Enough  tliat  so  it 
was;  and  so  my  Lady  went  to  heaven. 

"For  when  tlie  snow  came  down  in  autumn  on  the  roots  of 
the  Pyrenees,  and  the  chapel-yard  was  white  with  it,  many 
people  told  the  lady  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  go.  And  the 
strongest  plea  of  all  was  this,  that  now  she  bore  another  hope 
of  repeating  her  husbantl's  virtues.  So  at  the  end  of  October, 
when  wolves  came  down  to  the  farm-lands,  the  little  English 
family  went  home  towards  tlieir  England. 

"They  landed  somewliere  on  tlie  Devonshire  coast,  ten  or 
eleven  years  agone,  and  stayed  some  days  at  Exeter;  and  set 


104  LORNA   BOONE. 

out  thence  in  a  hired  coach,  without  any  proper  attendance,  for 
Watchett,  in  tlie  north  of  Somerset.  For  the  lady  owned  a 
quiet  mansion  in  the  neighborhood  of  that  town,  and  her  one 
desire  was  to  find  refuge  there,  and  to  meet  her  lord,  who  was 
sure  to  come  (she  said)  when  he  heard  of  his  new  infant. 
Therefore,  with  only  two  serving-men  and  two  maids  (includ- 
ing Benita)  the  party  set  forth  from  Exeter,  and  lay  the  first 
night  at  Bampton. 

"  On  the  following  morn  they  started  bravely,  with  earnest 
hope  of  arriving  at  their  journey's  end  by  daylight.  But  the 
roads  were  soft  and  very  deep,  and  the  sloughs  were  out  in 
places;  and  the  heavy  coach  broke  down  in  the  axle,  and 
needed  mending  at  Dulverton;  and  so  they  lost  three  hours 
or  more,  and  would  have  been  wiser  to  sleep  there.  But  her 
ladyship  would  not  hear  of  it ;  she  must  be  home  that  night, 
she  said,  and  her  husband  would  be  waiting.  How  could  she 
keep  him  waiting  now,  after  such  a  long,  long  time? 

"Therefore,  although  it  was  afternoon,  and  the  year  now 
come  to  December,  the  horses  were  put  to  again,  and  the  heavy 
coach  went  up  the  hill,  with  the  lady  and  her  two  children, 
and  Benita,  sitting  inside  of  it;  the  other  maid,  and  two 
serving-men  (each  man  with  a  great  blunderbuss)  mounted 
upon  the  outside;  and  upon  the  horses  three  Exeter  postilions. 
]\Iuch  had  been  said  at  Dulverton,  and  even  back  at  Bampton, 
about  some  great  freebooters,  to  whom  all  Exmoor  owed  suit 
and  service,  and  paid  them  very  pu.nctually.  Both  the  serv- 
ing-men were  scared,  even  over  their  ale,  by  this.  But  the 
lady  only  said,  'Drive  on;  I  know  a  little  of  highwaymen; 
they  never  rob  a  lady.' 

"  Through  the  fog,  and  through  the  muck,  the  coach  went 
on,  as  best  it  might;  sometimes  foundering  in  a  slough,  with 
half  of  the  horses  splashing  it,  and  sometimes  knuckled  up 
on  a  bank,  and  straining  across  the  middle,  while  all  the 
horses  kicked  at  it.  However,  they  went  on  till  dark,  as 
well  as  might  be  expected.  But  when  they  came,  all  thanking 
God,  to  the  pitch  and  slope  of  the  sea-bank,  leading  on  towards 
Watchett  town,  and  where  my  horse  had  shied  so,  there  the 
little  boy  jumped  up,  and  clapped  his  hands  at  the  water;  and 
there  (as  Benita  said)  they  met  their  fate,  and  could  not 
fly  it. 

"  Although  it  was  past  the  dusk  of  day,  the  silver  light  from 
the  sea  flowed  in,  and  showed  the  cliffs,  and  the  gray  sand- 
line,  and  the  drifts  of  wreck,  and  wrack-weed.  It  showed 
them  also  a  troop  of  horsemen,  waiting  under  a  rock  hard  by, 


JEBEMY  FINDS   OUT  SOMETHING.  105 

and  ready  to  dash  upon  them.  The  postilions  lashed  towards 
the  sea,  and  the  horses  strove  in  the  depth  of  sand,  and  the 
serving-men  cocked  their  blunderbusses,  and  cowered  away 
behind  them ;  but  the  lady  stood  up  in  tlie  carriage  bravely, 
and  neither  screamed  nor  spoke,  but  hid  her  son  behind  her. 
Meanwhile  the  drivers  drove  into  the  sea,  till  the  leading 
horses  were  swimming. 

"  But  before  the  waves  came  into  the  coach,  a  score  of  fierce 
men  were  round  it.  They  cursed  the  postilions  for  mad 
cowards,  and  cut  the  traces,  and  seized  the  wheel-horses,  all 
wild  with  dismay  in  the  wet  and  the  dark.  Then,  while  the 
carriage  was  heeling  over,  and  well-nigh  upset  in  the  water,  the 
lady  exclaimed,  'I  know  that  man !  He  is  our  ancient  enemy : ' 
and  Benita  (foreseeing  that  all  their  boxes  would  be  turned 
inside  out,  or  carried  away)  snatched  the  most  valuable  of  the 
jewels,  a  magnificent  necklace  of  diamonds,  and  cast  it  over 
the  little  girl's  head,  and  buried  it  under  her  travelling-cloak, 
hoping  so  to  save  it.  Then  a  great  wave,  crested  with  foam, 
rolled  in,  and  the  coach  was  thrown  on  its  side,  and  the  sea 
rushed  in  at  the  top  and  the  windows,  upon  shrieking,  and 
clashing,  and  fainting  away. 

"What  followed  Benita  knew  not,  as  one  might  well  sup- 
pose, herself  being  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  head,  beside 
being  palsied  with  terror.  'See,  I  have  the  mark  now,'  she 
said,  'where  the  jamb  of  the  door  came  down  on  me!'  But 
when  she  recovered  her  senses,  she  found  herself  upon  the 
sand,  the  robbers  were  out  of  sight,  and  one  of  the  serving- 
men  was  bathing  her  forehead  with  sea  water.  For  this  she 
rated  him  well,  having  taken  already  too  much  of  that  arti' 
cle ;  and  then  she  arose  and  ran  to  her  mistress,  who  was  sit- 
ting upriglit  on  a  little  rock,  with  her  dead  boy's  face  to  her 
bosom,  sometimes  gazing  upon  him,  and  sometimes  questing 
round  for  the  other  one. 

"Although  there  were  torches  and  links  around,  and  she 
looked  at  her  child  by  the  light  of  them,  no  one  dared  to 
approacli  tlie  lady,  or  speak,  or  try  to  help  her.  Each  man 
whispered  his  fellow  to  go,  but  each  hung  back  himself,  and 
muttered  that  it  was  too  awful  to  meddle  witli.  And  there 
she  would  have  sat  all  night,  with  the  fine  little  fellow  stone 
dead  in  her  arms,  and  her  tearless  eyes  dwelling  upon  him, 
and  her  heart  h)ut  not  her  mind  thinking,  only  that  the  Italian 
woman  stole  up  softly  to  her  side,  and  wliispered,  'It  is  the 
will  of  God.' 

"'So  it  always  seems  to  be,'  were  all  the  words  tlie  mother 


lOG  LOENA   BOONE. 

answered;  and  then  slie  fell  on  Benita's  neck;  and  the  men 
were  ashamed  to  be  near  her  weeping;  and  a  sailor  lay  down 
and  bellowed.     Surely  these  men  are  the  best. 

"Before  the  light  of  the  morning  came  along  the  tide  to 
Watchett  my  Lady  had  met  her  husband.  They  took  her  into 
the  town  that  night,  but  not  to  her  own  castle;  and  so  the 
power  of  womanhood  (which  is  itself  maternity)  came  over 
swiftly  upon  her.  The  lady,  whom  all  people  loved  (though 
at  certain  times,  particular),  lies  in  Watchett  little  church- 
yard, with  son  and  heir  at  her  right  hand,  and  a  little  babe, 
of  sex  unknown,  sleeping  on  her  bosom. 

"This  is  a  miserable  tale,"  said  Jeremy  Stickles  brightly; 
"  hand  me  over  the  schnapps,  my  boy.  What  fools  we  are  to 
spoil  our  eyes  for  other  people's  troubles!  Enough  of  our 
own  to  keep  them  clean,  although  we  all  were  chimney-sweeps. 
There  is  nothing  like  good  hollands,  when  a  man  becomes  too 
sensitive.  Restore  the  action  of  the  glands ;  that  is  my  rule, 
after  weeping.  Let  me  make  you  another,  John.  You  are 
quite  low-spirited." 

But  although  Master  Jeremy  carried  on  so  (as  became  his 
manhood),  and  laughed  at  the  sailor's  bellowing;  bless  his 
heart,  I  knew  as  well  that  tears  were  in  his  brave  keen  eyes, 
as  if  I  had  dared  to  look  for  them,  or  show  mine  own  against 
them. 

"And  what  was  the  lady's  name?"  I  asked;  "and  what 
became  of  the  little  girl?  And  why  did  the  woman  stay 
there?" 

"  Well ! "  cried  Jeremy  Stickles,  only  too  glad  to  be  cheerful 
again:  "talk  of  a  woman  after  that!  As  we  used  to  say  at 
school  — '  Who  dragged  whom,  how  many  times,  in  what 
manner,  round  the  wall  of  what? '  But  to  begin,  last  first, 
my  John  (as  becomes  a  woman) :  Benita  stayed  in  that  blessed 
place,  because  she  could  not  get  away  from  it.  The  Doones 
—  if  Doones  indeed  they  were,  about  which  you  of  course 
know  best  —  took  every  stiver  out  of  the  carriage :  wet  or  dry 
they  took  it.  And  Benita  could  never  get  her  wages :  for  the 
whole  affair  is  in  Chancery,  and  they  have  appointed  a 
receiver." 

"  Whew !  "  said  I,  knowing  something  of  London,  and  sorry 
for  Benita's  chance. 

"So  the  poor  thing  was  compelled  to  drop  all  thought  of 
Apulia,  and  settle  down  on  the  brink  of  Exmoor,  where  you 
get  all  its  evils,  without  the  good  to  balance  them.  She  mar- 
ried a  man  who  turned  a  wheel  for  making  the  blue  Watchett 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  107 

ware,  partly  because  lie  could  give  her  a  house,  and  partly 
because  he  proved  himself  a  good  soul  towards  my  Lady. 
There  they  are,  and  have  three  children;  and  there  you  may 
go  and  visit  them." 

"  I  understand  all  that,  Jeremy,  though  you  do  tell  things 
too  quickly,  and  I  would  rather  have  John  Fry's  style;  for 
he  leaves  one  time  for  his  words  to  melt.  >low  for  my  second 
question.     What  became  of  the  little  maid?" 

"You  great  oaf!"  cried  Jeremy  Stickles:  "you  are  rather 
more  likely  to  know,  I  should  think,  than  any  one  else  in  all 
the  kingdoms." 

"  If  I  knew,  I  should  not  ask  you.  Jeremy  Stickles,  do  try 
to  be  neither  conceited,  nor  thick-headed." 

"I  will  when  you  are  neither,"  answered  Master  Jeremy; 
"but  you  occupy  all  the  room,  John.  Xo  one  else  can  get  in 
with  you  there." 

"Very  well  then,  let  me  out.  Take  me  down  in  both 
ways." 

"  If  ever  you  were  taken  down ;  you  must  have  your  double 
joints  ready  now.  And  yet  in  other  ways  you  will  be  as  proud 
and  set  up  as  Lucifer.  As  certain  sure  as  I  stand  here,  that 
little  maid  is  Lorua  Doone." 


CHArTER   LTV. 

MUTUAL    DISCOMFITURE. 

It  must  not  be  sup})osed  that  I  was  altogether  so  thick- 
headed as  Jeremy  would  have  made  me  out.  But  it  is  part 
of  my  character  that  I  like  other  people  to  think  me  slow, 
and  to  labor  hard  to  enlighten  me,  while  all  the  time  I  can  say 
to  myself,  "This  man  is  shallower  than  I  am;  it  is  pleasant 
to  see  his  shoals  come  up,  while  he  is  sounding  mine  so!" 
Not  that  I  would  so  behave,  God  forbid,  with  any  body  (be  it 
man  or  woman)  who  in  simple  heart  approached  me,  with  no 
gauge  of  intellect.  I>ut  when  the  upper  hand  is  taken,  upon 
the  faith  of  one's  i)atieuce,  by  a  man  of  even  smaller  wits 
(not  that  Jeremy  was  that,  neither  could  he  have  lived  to 
be  thought  so),  Avliy,  it  naturally  happens,  that  we  knuckle 
under,  v/ith  an  ounce  of  indignation. 

Jeremy's  tale  would  have  moved  me  greatly,  ])()ili  with 
sorrow  and  anger,  even  without  my  guess  at  first,  and  now  my 


108  LOENA   BOONE. 

firm  belief,  that  the  child  of  those  unlucky  parents  was  indeed 
my  Lorna.  And  as  I  thought  of  the  lady's  troubles,  and  her 
faith  in  Providence,  and  her  cruel,  childless  death,  and  then 
imagined  how  my  darling  would  be  overcome  to  hear  it,  you 
may  well  believe  that  my  quick  replies  to  Jeremy  Stickles' 
banter  were  but  as  the  flourish  of  a  drum  to  cover  the  sounds 
of  pain. 

For  when  he  described  the  heavy  coach,  and  the  persons  in 
and  upon  it,  and  the  breaking  down  at  Dulverton,  and  the 
place  of  their  destination,  as  well  as  the  time  and  the  weather, 
and  the  season  of  the  year,  my  heart  began  to  burn  within  me, 
and  my  mind  replaced  the  pictures,  first  of  the  foreign  lady's- 
maid  by  the  pump  caressing  me,  and  then  of  the  coach  strug- 
gling up  the  hill,  and  the  beautifid  dame,  and  the  fine  little 
boy,  with  the  white  cockade  in  his  hat;  but  most  of  all  the 
little  girl,  dark-haired  and  very  lovely,  and  having  even  in 
those  days  the  rich  soft  look  of  Lorna. 

But  when  he  spoke  of  the  necklace  thrown  over  the  head  of 
the  little  maiden,  and  of  her  disappearance,  before  my  eyes 
arose  at  once  the  flashing  of  the  beacon-fire,  the  lonely  moors 
embrowned  with  light,  the  tramp  of  the  outlaw  cavalcade,  and 
the  helpless  child  head  downward  lying  across  the  robber's 
saddle-bow.  Then  I  remembered  my  own  mad  shout  of  boyish 
indignation,  and  marvelled  at  the  strange  long  way  by  which 
the  events  of  life  come  round.  And  while  I  thought  of  my 
own  return,  and  childish  attempt  to  hide  myself  from  sorrow 
in  the  sawpit,  and  the  agony  of  my  mother's  tears,  it  did  not 
fail  to  strike  me  as  a  thing  of  omen,  that  the  self-same  day 
should  be,  both  to  my  darling  and  myself,  the  blackest  and 
most  miserable  of  all  youthful  days. 

The  King's  Commissioner  thought  it  wise,  for  some  good 
reason  of  his  own,  to  conceal  from  me,  for  the  present,  the 
name  of  the  poor  lady  supposed  to  be  Lorna's  mother:  and 
knowing  that  I  could  easily  now  discover  it,  without  him,  I 
let  that  question  abide  awhile.  Indeed  I  was  half  afraid  to 
hear  it,  remembering  that  the  nobler  and  the  wealthier  she 
proved  to  be  the  smaller  was  my  chance  of  winning  such  a 
wife  for  plain  John  Eidd.  Not  that  she  would  give  me  up : 
that  I  never  dreamed  of.  But  that  others  would  interfere; 
or  indeed  I  myself  might  find  it  only  honest  to  relinquish  her. 
That  last  thought  was  a  dreadful  blow,  and  took  my  breath 
away  from  me. 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  quite  decided  —  and  of  course  the  dis- 
covery being  his,  he  had  a  right  to  be  so  —  that  not  a  word  of 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITUEE.  109 

all  these  things  must  be  imparted  to  Lorna  herself,  or  even 
to  my  mother,  or  any  one  whatever.  "  Keep  it  tight  as  wax, 
my  lad,"  he  cried,  with  a  wink  of  great  expression;  "this 
belongs  to  me,  mind;  and  the  credit,  ay,  and  the  premium, 
and  the  right  of  discount,  are  altogether  mine.  It  would  have 
taken  you  fifty  years  to  put  two  and  two  together  so,  as  I  did, 
like  a  clap  of  thunder.  Ah,  God  has  given  some  men  brains; 
and  others  have  good  farms  and  money,  and  a  certain  skill  in 
the  lower  beasts.  Each  must  use  his  special  talent.  You 
work  your  farm:  I  work  my  brains.  In  the  end,  my  lad,  I 
shall  beat  you." 

"Then,  Jeremy,  what  a  fool  you  must  be,  if  you  cudgel 
your  brains  to  make  money  of  this,  to  open  the  barn-door  to 
me,  and  show  me  all  your  threshing." 

"Not  a  whit,  my  son.  Quite  the  opposite.  Two  men 
always  thresh  better  than  one.  And  here  I  have  you  bound 
to  use  your  flail,  one  two,  with  mine,  and  yet  in  strictest 
honor  bound  not  to  bushel  up,  till  I  tell  you." 

"But,"  said  I,  being  much  amused  by  a  Londoner's  brave, 
yet  uncertain,  use  of  simplest  rural  metaphors,  for  he  had 
wholly  forgotten  the  winnowing :  "  surely  if  I  bushel  up,  even 
when  you  tell  me,  I  must  take  half -measure." 

"  So  you  shall,  my  boy,"  he  answered,  "  if  we  can  only  cheat 
those  confounded  knaves  of  Equity.  You  shall  take  the 
beauty,  my  son,  and  the  elegance  and  the  love,  and  all  that  — 
and  my  boy,  I  will  take  the  money." 

This  he  said  in  a  way  so  dry,  and  yet  so  richly  unctuous, 
that  being  gifted  somehow  by  God,  Avith  a  kind  of  sense  of 
queerness,  1  fell  back  in  my  chair,  and  laughed,  though  the 
underside  of  my  laugh  was  tears. 

"  Xow,  Jeremy,  how  if  I  refuse  to  keep  this  half  as  tight  as 
wax?  You  bound  me  to  no  such  partnership,  before  you  told 
the  story:  and  I  am  not  sure,  by  any  means,  of  your  right  to 
do  so  afterwards." 

"  Tush !  "  he  replied :  "  I  know  yoii  too  well,  to  look  for 
meanness  in  you.  If  from  pure  goodwill,  John  Ridd,  and 
anxiety  to  relieve  you,  I  made  no  condition  precedent,  you 
are  not  the  man  to  take  advantage,  as  a  lawyer  might.  I  do 
not  even  want  your  promise.  As  sure  as  I  hold  this  glass, 
and  drink  your  healtli  and  love,  in  another  drop  (forced  on  me 
by  pathetic  words),  so  surely  will  you  l)e  bound  to  me,  until  I 
do  release  you.  Tush!  I  know  men  well  by  this  tinn^:  a  mere 
look  of  trust  from  one  is  worth  another's  ten  tliousand  oaths." 

"Jeremy,  you  are  right,"  I  answered;  "at  least  as  regards 


110  LORN  A  DOONE. 

the  issue.  Altliougli  perhaps  you  were  not  right  in  leading 
me  into  a  bargain  like  this,  without  my  own  consent  or  knowl- 
edge. But  supposing  that  we  should  both  be  shot  in  this 
grand  attack  on  the  valley  (for  I  mean  to  go  with  you  now, 
heart  and  soul),  is  Lorna  to  remain  untold  of  that  which 
changes  all  her  life?" 

"  Both  shot !  "  cried  Jeremy  Stickles :  "  my  goodness,  boy, 
talk  not  like  that!  And  those  Doones  are  cursed  good  shots 
too.  Nay,  nay,  the  yellows  shall  go  in  front ;  we  attack  on 
the  Somerset  side,  I  think.  I  from  a  liill  will  reconnoitre,  as 
behoves  a  general,  you  shall  stick  behind  a  tree,  if  we  can  only 
find  one  big  enough  to  hide  you.  You  and  I  to  be  shot,  John 
Ridd,  with  all  this  inferior  food  for  powder  anxious  to  be 
devoured?" 

I  laughed,  for  I  knew  his  cool  hardihood,  and  never-iiinch- 
ing  courage ;  and  sooth  to  say  no  coward  would  have  dared  to 
talk  like  that. 

"But  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,"  he  continued,  smiling 
at  himself;  "some  provision  should  be  made  for  even  that 
unpleasant  chance.  I  will  leave  the  whole  in  writing,  with 
orders  to  be  opened,  &c.  &c.  — Now  no  more  of  that,  my  boy; 
a  cigarro  after  schnapps,  and  go  to  meet  my  yellow  boys." 

His  "yellow  boys,"  as  he  called  the  Somersetshire  trained 
bands,  were  even  now  coming  down  the  valley  from  the 
"  London-road, "  as  every  one  since  I  went  up  to  town,  grandly 
entitled  the  lane  to  the  moors.  There  was  one  good  point 
about  these  men,  that  having  no  discipline  at  all,  they  made 
pretence  to  none  whatever.  Nay,  rather  they  ridiculed  the 
thing,  as  below  men  of  any  spirit.  On  the  other  hand. 
Master  Stickles'  troopers  looked  down  on  these  native  fellows 
from  a  height  which  I  hope  they  may  never  tumble,  for  it 
would  break  the  necks  of  all  of  them. 

Now  these  fine  natives  came  along,  singing  for  their  very 
lives,  a  song  the  like  of  which  set  down  here  would  oust  my 
book  from  modest  people,  and  make  every  body  say,  "this 
man  never  can  have  loved  Lorna."  Therefore  the  less  of  that 
the  better ;  only  I  thought,  "  what  a  difference  from  the  goodly 
psalms  of  the  alehouse !  " 

Having  finished  their  canticle,  which  contained  more  mirth 
than  melody,  they  drew  themselves  up,  in  a  sort  of  way  sup- 
posed by  them  to  be  military,  each  man  with  heel  and  elbow 
struck  into  those  of  his  neighbor,  and  saluted  the  King's  Com- 
missioner. "Why,  where  are  your  officers?"  asked  Master 
Stickles;  "how  is  it  that  you  have  no  officers?"     Upon  this 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  Ill 

there  arose  a  general  grin,  aud  a  knowing  look  passed  along 
their  faces,  even  up  to  the  man  by  the  gatepost.  "Are  you 
going  to  tell  me,  or  not,"  said  Jeremy,  "what  is  become  of 
your  officers?" 

"Plaise  zur,"  said  one  little  fellow  at  last,  being  nodded  at 
by  the  rest  to  speak,  in  right  of  his  known  eloquence ;  "  hus 
tould  Harfizers,  as  a  wor  no  nade  of  un,  now  King's  man 
hiszel  wor  coom,  a  puppose  vor  to  command  us  laike." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say,  you  villains,"  cried  Jeremy, 
scarce  knowing  whether  to  laugh,  or  to  swear,  or  what  to  do; 
"  that  your  officers  took  their  dismissal  thus,  and  let  you  come 
on  without  them?" 

"What  could  'em  do?"  asked  the  little  man,  with  reason 
certainly  on  his  side:  "hus  zent  'em  about  their  business,  and 
they  was  glad  enough  to  goo." 

"  Well !  "  said  poor  Jeremy,  turning  to  me ;  "  a  pretty  state 
of  things,  John!  Threescore  cobblers,  and  farming  men, 
plaisterers,  tailors,  and  kettles-to-mend;  and  not  a  man  to 
keep  order  among  them,  except  my  blessed  self,  John !  And 
I  trow  there  is  not  one  among  them  could  hit  a  barn-door  fly- 
ing.    The  Doones  will  make  riddles  of  all  of  us." 

However,  he  had  better  hopes,  when  the  sons  of  Devon 
appeared,  as  they  did  in  about  an  hour's  time;  fine  fellows, 
and  eager  to  prove  themselves.  These  had  not  discarded  their 
officers,  but  marched  in  good  obedience  to  them,  and  were 
quite  prepared  to  fight  the  men  of  Somerset  (if  need  be)  in 
addition  to  the  Doones.  And  there  was  scarcely  a  man  among 
them  but  could  have  trounced  three  of  the  yellow  men,  and 
would  have  done  it  gladly  too,  in  honor  of  the  red  facings. 

"Do  you  mean  to  suppose,  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,"  said  I, 
looking  on  with  amazement,  beholding  also  all  our  maidens  at 
the  upstair  windows  wondering;  "that  we,  my  mother  a 
widow  woman,  and  I  a  young  man  of  small  estate,  can  keep 
and  support  all  these  precious  fellows,  both  yellow  ones,  and 
red  ones,  until  they  have  taken  the  Doone  Glen?" 

"God  forbid  it,  my  son!"  he  replied,  laying  a  finger  upon 
his  lip:  "Nay,  nay,  I  am  not  of  the  shabby  order,  when  I 
have  the  strings  of  government.  Kill  your  sheep  at  famine 
prices,  and  knead  your  bread  at  a  figure  expressing  the  rigors 
of  last  winter.  Let  Annie  make  out  the  bill  every  day,  and 
I  at  night  will  doul)le  it.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it. 
Master  John,  this  spring-harvest  shall  bring  you  in  three  times 
as  much  as  last  autumn's  did.  If  they  cheated  you  in  town, 
my  lad,  you  sliall  have  your  cliange  in  the  country.  Take  thy 
bill,  and  write  down  quickly." 


112  LOBNA  BOONE. 

However,  tliis  did  not  meet  my  views  of  what  an  honest 
man  should  do ;  and  I  went  to  consult  my  mother  about  it,  as 
all  the  accounts  would  be  made  in  her  name. 

Dear  mother  thought  that  if  the  King  paid  only  half  again 
as  much  as  other  people  would  have  to  pay,  it  would  be  per- 
haps the  proper  thing;  the  half  being  due  for  loyalty;  and 
here  she  quoted  an  ancient  saying, — 

"  The  King  and  his  staff 
Be  a  man  and  a  half; " 

which,  according  to  her  judgment,  ruled  beyond  dispute  the 
law  of  the  present  question.  To  argue  with  her  after  that 
(which  she  brought  up  with  such  triumph)  would  have  been 
worse  than  useless.  Therefore  I  just  told  Annie  to  make  the 
bills  at  a  third  below  the  current  market  prices ;  so  that  the 
upshot  would  be  fair.  She  promised  me  honestly  that  she 
would ;  but  with  a  twinkle  in  her  bright  blue  eyes,  which  she 
must  have  caught  from  Tom  Faggus.  It  always  has  appeared 
to  me,  that  stern  and  downright  honesty  upon  money  matters 
is  a  thing  not  understood  of  women;  be  they  as  good  as  good 
can  be. 

The  yellows  and  the  reds  together  numbered  a  hundred  and 
twenty  men,  most  of  whom  slept  in  our  barns  and  stacks ;  and 
besides  these  we  had  fifteen  troopers  of  the  regular  army. 
You  may  suppose  that  all  the  country  was  turned  upside  down 
about  it ;  and  the  folk  who  came  to  see  them  drill  —  by  no 
means  a  needless  exercise  —  were  a  greater  plague  than  the 
soldiers.  The  officers  too  of  the  Devonshire  band  were  such 
a  torment  to  us,  that  we  almost  wished  their  men  had  dis- 
missed them,  as  the  Somerset  troop  had  done  with  theirs. 
For  we  could  not  keep  them  out  of  our  house,  being  all  young 
men  of  good  family,  and  therefore  not  to  be  met  with  bars. 
And  having  now  three  lovely  maidens  (for  even  Lizzie  might 
be  called  so,  when  she  cared  to  please),  mother  and  I  were  at 
wit's  ends,  on  account  of  those  blessed  officers.  I  never  got  a 
wink  of  sleep;  they  came  whistling  under  the  window  so;  and 
directly  I  went  out  to  chase  them,  there  was  nothing  but  a 
cat  to  see. 

Therefore  all  of  us  were  right  glad  (except  perhaps  Farmer 
Snowe,  from  whom  we  had  bought  some  victuals  at  rare  price) 
when  Jeremy  Stickles  gave  orders  to  march,  and  we  began  to 
try  to  do  it.  A  good  deal  of  boasting  went  overhead,  as  our 
men  defiled  along  the  lanej  and  the  thick  broad  patins  of 


MUTUAL  DISC02IFITURE.  113 

pennywort  jutted  out  between  the  stones,  ready  to  heal  their 
bruises.  The  parish  choir  came  part  of  the  way,  and  the 
singing-loft  from  Countisbury;  and  they  kept  our  soldiers' 
spirits  up,  with  some  of  the  most  pugnacious  Psalms.  Parson 
Bowden  marched  ahead,  leading  all  our  van  and  file,  as  against 
the  Papists;  and  promising  to  go  with  us,  till  we  came  to 
bullet  distance.  Therefore  we  marched  bravely  on,  and  chil- 
dren came  to  look  at  us.  And  I  wondered  where  Uncle  Reuben 
was,  who  ought  to  have  led  the  culverins  (whereof  we  had  no 
less  than  three)  if  Stickles  coukl  only  have  found  him;  and 
then  I  thought  of  little  Euth ;  and  without  any  fault  on  my 
part,  my  heart  went  down  within  me. 

The  culverins  were  laid  on  bark;  and  all  our  horses  pulling 
them,  and  looking  round  every  now  and  then,  with  their  ears 
curved  up  like  a  squirrel'd  nut,  and  their  noses  tossing  anx- 
iously, to  know  what  sort  of  plough  it  was  man  had  been 
pleased  to  put  behind  them  —  man,  whose  endless  whims  and 
wildness  they  could  never  understand,  any  more  than  they 
could  satisfy.  However,  they  pulled  their  very  best  —  as  all 
our  horses  always  do  —  and  the  culverins  went  up  the  hill, 
without  smack  of  whip,  or  swearing.  It  had  been  arranged, 
very  justly  no  doubt,  and  quite  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of 
the  Constitution,  but  as  it  proved  not  too  wisely,  that  either 
body  of  men  should  act  in  its  own  county  only.  So  when  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  sons  of  Devon  marched  on,  and 
across  the  track  leading  into  Doone-gate,  so  as  to  fetch  round 
the  western  side,  and  attack  with  their  culverin  from  the  cliffs, 
whence  the  sentry  had  challenged  me  on  the  night  of  my  pass- 
ing the  entrance.  Meanwhile  the  yellow  lads  were  to  stay 
upon  the  eastern  highland,  whence  Uncle  Reuben  and  myself 
had  reconnoitred  so  long  ago;  and  whence  I  had  leaped  into 
the  valley  at  the  time  of  the  great  snowdrifts.  And  here  they 
were  not  to  sliow  themselves ;  but  keep  their  culverin  in  the 
woods,  until  their  cousins  of  Devon  appeared  on  the  opposite 
parapet  of  the  glen. 

The  third  culverin  was  entrusted  to  the  fifteen  troopers ;  who 
with  ten  picked  sohliers  from  either  trained  l)a-iul,  making  in 
all  five-and-thirty  men,  were  to  assault  the  Doone-gate  itself, 
while  tlie  outlaws  were  placed  between  two  fires  from  tlie  east- 
ern cliff  and  the  western.  And  with  this  force  went  Jeremy 
Stickles,  and  with  it  went  myself,  as  knowing  more  about  the 
passage  than  any  otlier  stranger  did.  Therefore,  if  I  have  put 
it  clearly,  as  I  strive  to  do,  you  will  see  that  the  Doones  must 
repulse  at  once  three  simultaneous  attacks,  from  an  army 
voj>.  u.  —  8 


114  LORNA   BOONE. 

numbering  in  the  whole  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  men,  not 
including  the  Devonshire  officers;  fifty  men  on  each  side  I 
mean,  and  thirty-five  at  the  head  of  the  valley. 

The  tactics  of  this  grand  campaign  appeared  to  me  so  clever, 
and  beautifully  ordered,  that  I  commended  "Colonel  Stickles," 
as  every  body  now  called  him,  for  his  great  ability  and  mastery 
of  the  art  of  war.  He  admitted  that  he  deserved  high  praise ; 
but  said  that  he  was  not  by  any  means  equally  certain  of  suc- 
cess, so  large  a  proportion  of  his  forces  being  only  a  raw  militia, 
brave  enough  no  doubt  for  anything,  when  they  saw  their  way 
to  it;  but  knowing  little  of  gunnery,  and  wholly  unused  to  be 
shot  at.  Whereas  all  the  Doones  were  practised  marksmen, 
being  compelled  when  lads  (like  the  Balearic  slingers)  to  strike 
down  their  meals  before  tasting  tliem.  And  then  Colonel 
Stickles  asked  me,  whether  I  myself  could  stand  fire ;  he  knew 
that  I  was  not  a  coward,  but  this  was  a  different  question.  I 
told  him  tliat  I  had  been  shot  at,  once  or  twice  before;  but 
nevertheless  disliked  it,  as  much  as  almost  any  thing.  Upon 
that,  he  said  that  I  would  do ;  for  that  when  a  man  got  over 
the  first  blush  of  diffidence,  he  soon  began  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
puff  of  destiny. 

I  wish  I  could  only  tell  what  happened,  in  the  battle  of  that 
day,  especially  as  nearly  all  the  people  round  these  parts,  who 
never  saw  giin-fire  in  it,  have  gotten  the  tale  so  much  amiss ; 
and  some  of  them  will  even  stand  in  front  of  my  own  h'earth, 
and  contradict  me  to  the  teeth;  although  at  the  time  they  were 
not  born,  nor  their  fathers  put  into  breeches.  But  in  truth,  I 
cannot  tell,  exactly,  even  the  part  in  which  I  helped;  hoAV  then 
can  I  be  expected,  time  by  time,  to  lay  before  you,  all  the  little 
ins  and  outs  of  places,  where  I  myself  was  not?  Only  I  can 
contradict  things,  which  I  know  could  not  have  been ;  and  what 
I  plainly  saw  should  not  be  controverted  in  my  own  house. 

Now  we  five-and-thirty  men  lay  back,  a  little  way  round  the 
corner,  in  the  hollow  of  the  track  which  leads  to  the  strong 
Doone-gate.  Our  ciilverin  was  in  amongst  us,  loaded  now  to 
the  muzzle,  and  it  was  not  comfortable  to  know  that  it  might 
go  off  at  any  time.  Although  the  yeomanry  were  not  come 
(according  to  arrangement),  some  of  us  had  horses  there;  be- 
sides the  horses  who  dragged  the  cannon,  and  now  were  sniffing 
at  it.  And  there  were  plenty  of  spectators  to  mind  these  horses 
for  us,  as  soon  as  we  should  charge ;  inasmuch  as  all  our  friends 
and  neighbors,  who  had  so  keenly  prepared  for  the  battle,  now 
resolved  to  take  no  part,  but  look  on,  and  praise  the  winners. 

At  last,  we  heard  the  loud  bang-bang,  which  proved  that 


MUTUAL   BISCOMFITURE.  115 

Devon  and  Somerset  were  pouring  tlieir  indignation  hot  into 
the  den  of  malefactors,  or  at  least  so  we  supposed;  therefore 
at  double  quick  march  we  advanced  round  the  bend  of  the  cliff 
which  had  liidden  us,  hoi)ing  to  find  the  gate  undefended,  and 
to  blow  down  all  barriers  with  the  fire  of  our  cannon.  And 
indeed  it  seemed  likely  at  first  to  be  so,  for  the  wild  and  moun- 
tainous gorge  of  rock  appeared  to  be  all  in  pure  loneliness, 
except  where  the  colored  coats  of  our  soldiers,  and  their  metal 
trappings,  shone  with  the  sun  behind  them.  Therefore  we 
shouted  a  loud  hurrah,  as  for  an  easy  victory. 

But  while  the  sound  of  our  cheer  rang  back  among  the  crags 
above  us,  a  shrill  clear  whistle  cleft  the  air  for  a  single  moment, 
and  then  a  dozen  carbines  bellowed,  and  all  among  us  flew  mur- 
derous lead.  Several  of  our  men  rolled  over,  but  the  rest 
rushed  on  like  Britons,  Jeremy  and  myself  in  front,  while  we 
heard  the  horses  plunging  at  the  loaded  gun  behind  us.  "  Now, 
my  lads,"  cried  Jeremy,  "one  dash,  and  we  are  beyond  tliem!  " 
For  he  saw  that  the  foe  was  overhead  in  the  gallery  of  brush- 
wood. 

Our  men  with  a  brave  shout  answered  him,  for  his  courage 
was  fine  example ;  and  we  leaped  in  under  the  feet  of  the  foe, 
before  they  could  load  their  guns  again.  But  here,  when  the 
foremost  among  us  were  past,  an  awful  crash  rang  behind  us, 
with  the  shrieks  of  men,  and  the  din  of  metal,  and  the  horrible 
screaming  of  horses.  The  trunk  of  the  tree  had  been  launched 
overhead,  and  crashed  into  the  very  midst  of  us.  Our  cannon 
was  under  it,  so  were  two  men  and  a  horse  with  his  poor  back 
broken.  Another  horse  vainly  struggled  to  rise  with  liis  thigh- 
bone smashed  and  protruding. 

Now  I  lost  all  presence  of  mind  at  this,  for  I  loved  both  those 
good  horses,  and  shouting  for  any  to  follow  me,  dashed  head- 
long into  the  cavern.  Some  five  or  six  men  came  after  me,  the 
foremost  of  whom  was  Jeremy,  when  a  storm  of  shots  whistled 
and  pattered  around  nu;,  with  a  blaze  of  light  and  a  thunderous 
roar.  On  I  leaped,  like  a  nuidiuan,  and  pounced  on  one  gunner, 
and  hurled  him  across  his  culverin;  but  the  others  had  fied, 
and  a  heavy  oak  door  fell  to  with  a  bang,  behind  tlusm.  So 
utterly  were  my  senses  gone,  and  nought  but  strcnigth  remain- 
ing, that  I  caught  up  the  J)oone  cannon  with  both  hands,  and 
dashed  it,  breech-first,  at  the  doorway.  The  solid  oak  burst 
with  the  blow,  and  tlic  gun  stuck  fast,  like  a  builder's  putlog. 

But  here  I  looked  round  in  vain,  for  any  to  come  and  follow 
up  my  success.  The  scanty  light  showed  me  no  figure  moving 
througli  tlie  length  of  the  tunnel  behind  me;  only  a  heavy 


116  LORNA   BOONE. 

groan  or  two  went  to  my  heart,  and  chilled  it.  So  I  hurried 
back  to  seek  Jeremy,  fearing  that  he  must  be  smitten  down. 

And  so  indeed  I  found  him,  as  well  as  three  other  poor  fel- 
lows, struck  by  the  charge  of  the  culverin,  which  had  passed 
so  close  beside  me.  Two  of  the  four  were  as  dead  as  stones, 
and  growing  cold  already,  but  Jeremy  and  the  other  could  man- 
age to  groan,  just  noAv  and  then.  So  I  turned  my  attention  to 
them,  and  thought  no  more  of  lighting. 

Having  so  many  wounded  men,  and  so  many  dead  among  us, 
we  loitered  at  the  cavern's  mouth,  and  looked  at  one  another, 
wishing  only  for  somebody  to  come  and  take  command  of  us. 
But  no  one  came;  and  I  was  grieved  so  much  about  poor 
Jeremy,  besides  being  wholly  unused  to  any  violence  of  blood- 
shed, that  I  could  only  keep  his  head  up,  and  try  to  stop  him 
from  bleeding.  And  he  looked  up  at  me  pitifully,  being  per- 
haps in  a  haze  of  thought,  as  a  calf  looks  at  a  butcher. 

The  shot  had  taken  him  in  the  mouth ;  about  that  no  doubt 
could  be,  for  two  of  his  teeth  were  in  his  beard,  and  one  of  his 
lips  was  wanting.  I  laid  his  shattered  face  on  my  breast,  and 
nursed  him,  as  a  woman  might.  But  he  looked  at  me  with  a 
jerk  at  this ;  and  I  saw  that  he  wanted  coolness. 

While  here  we  stayed,  quite  out  of  danger  (for  the  fellows 
from  the  gallery  could  by  no  means  shoot  us,  even  if  they 
remained  there,  and  the  oaken  door  whence  the  others  fled  was 
blocked  up  by  the  culverin),  a  boy  who  had  no  business  there 
(being  in  fact  our  clerk's  apprentice  to  the  art  of  shoe-making) 
came  round  the  corner  upon  us,  in  the  manner  which  boys,  and 
only  boys,  can  use  with  grace  and  freedom ;  that  is  to  say,  with 
a  sudden  rush,  and  a  sidelong  step,  and  an  impu.dence, — 

"Got  the  worst  of  it!  "  cried  the  boy:  "better  be  off  all  of 
you.  Zomerzett  and  Devon  a  vighting ;  and  the  Doones  have 
drashed  'em  both.     Maister  Ridd,  even  thee  be  drashed." 

We  few,  who  yet  remained  of  the  force  which  was  to  have 
won  the  Doone  gate,  gazed  at  one  another,  like  so  many  fools, 
and  nothing  more.  For  we  still  had  some  faint  hopes  of  win- 
ning the  day,  and  recovering  our  reputation,  by  means  of  what 
the  other  men  might  have  done  without  us.  And  we  could  not 
understand  at  all  how  Devonshire  and  Somerset,  being  em- 
barked in  the  same  cause,  should  be  fighting  with  one  another. 

Finding  nothing  more  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  carrying  on 
the  war,  we  laid  jDOor  Master  Stickles  and  two  more  of  the 
wounded  upon  the  carriage  of  bark  and  hurdles,  whereon  our 
gun  had  laid;  and  we  rolled  the  gun  into  the  river,  and  har- 
nessed the  horses  yet  alive,  and  put  the  others  out  of  their 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  117 

pain,  and  sadly  wended  homewards,  feeling  ourselves  to  be 
thoroughly  beaten,  yet  ready  to  maintain  that  it  was  no  fault 
of  ours  whatever.  And  in  this  opinion  the  women  joined,  being 
only  too  glad  and  thankful  to  see  us  come  home  alive  again. 

Now  this  enterprise  having  failed  so,  I  prefer  not  to  dwell 
too  long  upon  it;  only  just  to  show  the  mischief  which  lay  at 
the  root  of  the  failure.  And  this  mischief  was  the  vile  jeal- 
ousy betwixt  red  and  yellow  uniform.  Now  I  try  to  speak 
impartially,  belonging  no  more  to  Somerset  than  I  do  to  Devon- 
shire, living  upon  the  borders,  and  born  of  either  county.  The 
tale  was  told  me  by  one  side  first;  and  then  quite  to  a  different 
tune  by  the  other;  and  then  by  both  together,  with  very  hot 
words  of  reviling,  and  a  desire  to  fight  it  out  again.  And  put- 
ting this  with  that,  the  truth  appears  to  be  as  follows  — 

The  men  of  Devon,  who  bore  red  facings,  had  a  long  way  to 
go  round  the  liills,  before  they  could  get  into  due  position  on 
the  western  side  of  the  Doone  Glen.  And  knowing  that  their 
cousins  in  yellow  would  claim  the  whole  of  the  glory,  if  allowed 
to  be  first  with  the  firing,  these  worthy  fellows  waited  not  to 
take  good  aim  with  their  cannon,  seeing  the  others  about  to 
shoot;  but  fettled  it  any  how  on  the  slope,  pointing  in  a  gen- 
eral direction;  and  trusting  in  God  for  aim-worthiness,  laid 
the  rope  to  the  breech,  and  fired.  Now  as  Providence  ordained 
it,  the  shot,  which  was  a  casual  mixture  of  any  thing  considered 
hard  —  for  instance  jug-bottoms  and  knobs  of  doors  —  the  whole 
of  this  pernicious  dose  came  scattering  and  shattering  among 
the  unfortunate  yellow  men  upon  the  opposite  cliff;  killing 
one  and  wounding  two. 

Now  what  did  tlie  men  of  Somerset  do,  but  instead  of  wait- 
ing for  their  friends  to  send  round  and  beg  pardon,  train  their 
gun  full  mouth  upon  them,  and  with  a  vicious  meaning  shoot? 
Nor  only  tliis,  but  they  loudly  cheered,  when  they  saw  four  or 
five  red  coats  lie  low;  for  which  savage  feeling  not  even  the 
remarks  of  the  Devonshire  men  concerning  their  coats  could 
entirely  excuse  them.  Now  I  need  not  tell  the  rest  of  it;  for 
the  tale  makes  a  man  discontented.  Enough  that  both  sides 
waxed  hotter  and  hotter  with  the  fire  of  destruction.  And  but 
that  the  gorge  of  the  cliffs  lay  between,  very  few  would  have 
lived  to  tell  of  it :  for  our  western  blood  becomes  stiff  and  firm, 
when  churned  Avith  the  sense  of  wrong  in  it. 

At  last  the  Doones  (wlio  must  have  laughed  at  the  thunder 
passing  over  head)  recalling  their  men  from  the  gallery,  issued 
out  of  Gwenny's  gate  ^which  had  been  wholly  overlooked)  and 
fell  on  the  rear  of  the  Somerset  men,  and  slew  four  beside  their 


118  LOBNA   DOONE. 

cannon.  Then  while  the  survivors  ran  away,  the  outhiws  took 
the  hot  culverin,  and  rolled  it  down  into  their  valley.  Thus 
of  three  cannons  set  forth  that  morning,  only  one  ever  came 
home  again,  and  that  was  the  gun  of  the  Devonshire  men,  who 
dragged  it  home  themselves,  with  the  view  of  making  a  boast 
about  it. 

This  was  a  melancholy  end  of  our  brave  setting  out:  and 
every  body  blamed  every  one  else :  and  several  of  us  wanted  to 
have  the  whole  thing  over  again,  as  then  we  must  have  righted 
it.  But  upon  one  point  all  agreed,  by  some  reasoning  not  clear 
to  me,  that  the  root  of  the  evil  was  to  be  found  in  the  way  Par- 
son Bowden  went  up  the  hill,  with  his  hat  on,  and  no  cassock. 


CHAPTER   LV. 

GETTING   INTO    CHANCERY. 

Two  of  the  Devonshire  officers  (Captains  Pyke  and  Dalian) 
now  took  command  of  the  men  who  were  left,  and  ordered  all 
to  go  home  again,  commending  niuch  the  bravery  which  had 
been  displayed  on  all  sides,  and  tlie  loyalty  to  the  King,  and 
the  English  Constitution.  This  last  word  always  seems  to  me 
to  settle  every  thing  when  said,  because  nobody  understands 
it,  and  yet  all  can  puzzle  tlieir  neighbors.  So  the  Devonshire 
men,  having  beans  to  sow  (wliich  they  ought  to  have  done  on 
Good  Friday),  went  home:  and  our  Somerset  friends  only 
stayed  for  two  days  more,  to  backbite  them. 

To  me  the  whole  thing  was  purely  grievous;  not  from  any 
sense  of  defeat  (though  that  was  bad  enough),  but  from  the 
pain  and  anguish  caused  by  death,  and  wounds,  and  mourning. 
"Surely  we  have  woes  enough,"  I  used  to  think  of  an  evening, 
when  the  poor  fellows  could  not  sleep,  or  rest,  or  let  others 
rest  around  them;  "surely  all  this  smell  of  wounds  is  not 
incense  men  should  pay  to  the  God  who  made  them.  Death, 
when  it  comes  and  is  done  with,  may  be  a  bliss  to  any  one;  but 
the  doubt  of  life  or  death,  when  a  man  lies,  as  it  were,  like  a 
trunk  upon  a  saw-pit,  and  a  grisly  head  looks  up  at  him,  and 
the  groans  of  pain  are  cleaving  him,  this  would  be  beyond  all 
bearing,  but  for  Nature's  sap  —  sweet  hope." 

Jeremy  Stickles  la}'  and  tossed,  and  thrust  up  his  feet  in 
agony,  and  bit  with  his  lipless  mouth  the  clothes,  and  was 
proud  to  see  blood  upon  them.     He  looked  at  us  ever  so  many 


GETTING  INTO   CHANCERY.  119 

times,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Fools,  let  me  die;  then  I  shall  have 
some  comfort;"  but  we  nodded  at  him  sagely,  especially  the 
women,  trying  to  convey  to  him,  on  no  account  to  die  yet. 
And  then  we  talked  to  one  another  (on  purpose  for  him  to  hear 
us),  how  brave  he  was,  and  not  the  man  to  knock  under  in  a 
hurry,  and  how  he  should  have  the  victory  yet;  and  how  well 
he  looked,  considering. 

These  things  cheered  him,  a  little  now,  and  a  little  more 
next  time ;  and  every  time  we  went  on  so,  he  took  it  with  less 
impatience.  Then  once  when  he  had  been  very  quiet,  and  not 
even  tried  to  frown  at  us,  Annie  leaned  over,  and  kissed  his 
forehead,  and  spread  the  pillows,  and  sheet,  with  a  curve  as 
delicate  as  his  own  white  ears;  and  then  he  feebly  lifted  hands, 
and  prayed  to  God  to  bless  her.  And  after  that  he  came  round 
gently;  though  never  to  the  man  he  had  been,  and  never  to 
speak  loud  again. 

For  a  time  (as  I  may  have  implied  before)  Master  Stickles' 
authority,  and  manner  of  levying  duties,  had  not  been  taken 
kindly  by  the  people  round  our  neighborhood.  The  manners 
of  East  Lynn,  and  West  Lynn,  and  even  that  of  Woolhanger 
—  although  just  then  all  three  were  at  issue  about  some  rights 
of  wreck,  and  the  hanging  of  a  sheep-stealer  (a  man  of  no  great 
eminence,  yet  claimed  by  each,  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes)  — 
these  three,  having  their  rights  impugned,  or  even  superseded, 
as  they  declared,  by  the  quartering  of  soldiers  in  their  neigh- 
borhood, united  very  kindly  to  oppose  the  King's  Commis- 
sioner. However,  Jeremy  had  contrived  to  conciliate  the 
whole  of  them,  not  so  much  by  anything  engaging  in  his 
deportment,  or  delicate  address,  as  by  holding  out  bright  hopes 
that  the  plunder  of  the  Doone  Glen  might  become  divisible 
among  the  adjoining  manors.  Now  I  have  never  discovered  a 
thing  which  the  lords  of  manors  (at  least  in  our  part  of  the 
world)  do  not  believe  to  belong  to  themselves,  if  only  they 
could  get  their  rights.  And  it  did  seem  natural  enougli  that 
if  the  Doones  were  ousted,  and  a  nice  collection  of  prey 
remained,  this  should  be  parted  among  the  people  having  elder 
rights  of  plunder.  Nevertheless  Master  Jeremy  knew  that  the 
soldiers  would  have  the  first  of  it,  and  the  King  what  they 
could  not  carry. 

And  perliaps  he  was  punished  justly  for  language  so  mis- 
leading, by  the  general  indignation  of  the  people  all  around 
us,  not  at  his  failure,  but  at  himself,  for  that  which  he  could 
in  no  wise  prevent.  And  tlie  stewards  of  the  manors  rode  up 
Ixj  our  house,  on  purpose  to  rej)roacli  liim,  and  wore  greatly 
re.\('d  with  all  of  us,  because  he  was  too  ill  to  sec  tlicm. 


120  LORNA  DOONE. 

To  myself  (though  by  rights  the  last  to  be  thought  of,  among 
so  much  pain  and  trouble)  Jeremy's  wound  was  a  great  mis- 
fortune, in  more  ways  than  one.  In  the  first  place,  it  deferred 
my  chance  of  imparting  either  to  my  mother  or  to  Mistress 
Lorna  my  firm  belief  that  the  maid  I  loved  was  not  sprung 
from  the  race  which  had  slain  my  father ;  neither  could  he  in 
any  way  have  offended  against  her  family.  And  this  discov- 
ery I  was  yearning  more  and  more  to  declare  to  them ;  being 
forced  to  see  (even  in  the  midst  of  all  our  warlike  troubles) 
that  a  certain  difference  was  growing  betwixt  them  both,  and 
betwixt  them  and  me.  For  although  the  words  of  the  Coun- 
sellor had  seemed  to  fail  among  us,  being  bravely  met  and  scat- 
tered, yet  our  courage  was  but  as  wind  flinging  wide  the 
tareseeds,  when  the  sower  casts  them  from  his  bag.  The  crop 
may  not  come  evenly,  many  places  may  long  lie  bare,  and  the 
field  be  all  in  patches;  yet  almost  every  vetch  will  spring,  and 
tiller  out,  and  stretch  across  the  scatterings  where  the  wind 
puffed. 

And  so  dear  mother,  and  darling  Lorna  now  had  been  for 
many  a  day  thinking,  worrying,  and  wearing,  about  the  matter 
between  us.  Neither  liked  to  look  at  the  other,  as  they  used 
to  do;  with  mother  admiring  Lorna's  eyes,  and  grace,  and 
form  of  breeding;  and  Lorna  loving  mother's  goodness,  soft- 
ness, and  simplicity.  And  the  saddest,  and  most  hurtful  thing, 
was  that  neither  could  ask  the  other  of  the  shadow  falling 
between  them.     And  so  it  went  on,  and  deepened. 

In  the  next  place  Colonel  Stickles'  illness  was  a  grievous 
thing  to  us,  in  that  we  had  no  one  now  to  command  the 
troopers.  Ten  of  these  were  still  alive,  and  so  well  approved 
to  us,  that  they  could  never  fancy  aught,  whether  for  dinner 
or  supper,  without  its  being  forthcoming.  If  they  wanted 
trout,  they  should  have  it ;  if  colloped  venison,  or  broiled  ham, 
or  salmon  from  Lynmouth  and  Trentisoe,  or  truffles  from  the 
woodside;  all  these  were  at  the  warriors'  service,  until  they 
lusted  for  something  else.  Even  the  wounded  men  ate  nobly; 
all  except  poor  Jeremy,  who  was  forced  to  have  a  young  elder 
shoot,  with  the  pith  drawn,  for  to  feed  him.  And  once,  when 
they  wanted  pickled  loach  ^  (from  my  description  of  it),  I  took 
up  my  boyish  sport  again,  and  pronged  them  a  good  jarful. 
Therefore  none  of  them  could  complain :  and  yet  they  were  not 
satisfied,  perhaps  for  want  of  complaining. 

'  There  are  said  to  be  no  loach  now  in  the  Lynn.  This  proves  that 
John  Ridd  caught  all  of  them. 


GETTING  INTO   CHANCERY.  121 

Be  that  as  it  might,  we  knew  that  if  they  once  resolved  to 
go  (as  they  might  do  at  any  time,  with  only  a  corporal  over 
them),  all  our  house,  and  all  our  goods,  ay,  and  our  own  pre- 
cious lives,  would  and  must  be  at  the  mercy  of  embittered 
enemies.  For  now  the  Doones,  having  driven  back,  as  every 
one  said,  five  hundred  men  —  though  not  thirty  had  ever  fought 
with  them  —  were  in  such  feather  all  round  the  country,  that 
nothing  was  too  good  for  them.  Offerings  poured  in  at  the 
Doone-gate,  faster  than  Doones  could  away  with  them;  and 
the  sympathy  both  of  Devon  and  Somerset  became  almost 
oppressive.  And  perhaps  this  wealth  of  congratulation,  and 
mutual  good  feeling  between  plunderer  and  victim,  saved  us 
from  any  piece  of  spite ;  kindliness  having  won  the  day,  and 
every  one  loving  every  one. 

But  yet  another  cause  arose,  and  this  the  strongest  one  of 
all,  to  prove  the  need  of  Stickles'  aid,  and  calamity  of  his  ill- 
ness. And  this  came  to  our  knowledge  first,  without  much 
time  to  think  of  it.  For  two  men  appeared  at  our  gate  one 
day,  stripped  to  their  shirts,  and  void  of  horses,  and  looking 
very  sorrowful.  Now  having  some  fear  of  attack  from  the 
Doones,  and  scarce  knowing  what  their  tricks  might  be,  we 
received  these  strangers  cautiously,  desiring  to  know  who  they 
were,  before  we  let  them  see  all  our  premises. 

However  it  soon  became  plain  to  us  that  although  they  might 
not  be  honest  fellows,  at  any  rate  they  were  not  Doones ;  and 
so  we  took  them  in,  and  fed,  and  left  them  to  tell  their  busi- 
ness. And  this  they  were  glad  enough  to  do;  as  men  who 
have  been  maltreated  almost  always  are.  And  it  was  not  for 
us  to  contradict  them,  lest  our  victuals  should  go  amiss. 

These  two  very  worthy  fellows  —  nay,  more  than  that  by 
their  own  account,  being  downright  martyrs — were  come,  for 
the  public  benefit,  from  the  Court  of  Chancery,  sitting  for 
everybody's  good,  and  boldly  redressing  evil.  This  Court  has 
a  power  of  scent  unknown  to  the  Common-law  practitioners, 
and  slowly,  yet  surely,  tracks  its  game;  even  as  the  great 
lumbering  dogs,  now  introduced  from  Spain,  and  called  by 
some  people  "pointers,"  differ  from  the  swift  gaze-hound,  who 
sees  his  prey  and  runs  him  down,  in  tlie  manner  of  the  com- 
mon lawyers.  If  a  man's  ill  fate  should  drive  him  to  make 
choice  between  these  two,  let  him  rather  be  chased  by  the 
hounds  of  law,  than  tracked  by  the  pointers  of  Equity. 

Now,  as  it  fell  in  a  very  black  day  (for  all  except  the  law- 
yers). His  Majesty's  Court  of  Chancery,  if  that  be  what  it 
called  itself,  gained  scent  of  poor  Lorna's  life,  and  of  all  that 


122  LOBNA   BOONE. 

might  be  made  of  it.  Whether  through  that  brave  young  lord 
who  ran  into  such  peril,  or  through  any  of  his  friends;  or 
whether  through  that  deep  old  Counsellor,  whose  game  none 
might  penetrate ;  or  through  any  disclosures  of  the  Italian  wo- 
man, or  even  of  Jeremy  himself ;  none  just  now  could  tell  us : 
only  this  truth  was  too  clear  —  Chancery  had  heard  of  Lorna, 
and  then  had  seen  how  rich  she  was :  and  never  delaying  in 
one  thing,  had  opened  mouth,  and  swallowed  her. 

The  Doones,  with  a  share  of  that  dry  Jiumor  which  was  in 
them  hereditary,  had  welcomed  the  two  apparitors  (if  that  be 
the  proper  name  for  tliem)  and  led  them  kindly  down  the 
valley,  and  told  them  then  to  serve  their  writ.  Misliking 
the  look  of  things,  these  poor  men  began  to  fumble  among 
their  clothes;  upon  which  tlie  Doones  cried,  "Off  with  them! 
Let  us  see  if  your  message  be  on  your  skins."  And  with  no 
more  manners  than  that,  they  stripped,  and  lashed  them  out 
of  the  valley;  only  bidding  them  come  to  us,  if  they  wanted 
Lorna  Doone:  and  to  us  they  came  accordingly.  Neither 
were  they  sure  at  first  but  that  we  should  treat  them  so ;  for 
they  had  no  knowledge  of  west  country,  and  thought  it  quite 
a  godless  place,  wherein  no  writ  was  holy. 

We  however  comforted  and  cheered  them  so  considerably 
that,  in  gratitude,  they  showed  their  writs,  to  which  they  had 
stuck  like  leeches.  And  these  were  twofold:  one  addressed  to 
Mistress  Lorna  Doone,  so  called,  and  bidding  her  keep  in 
readiness  to  travel  whenever  called  upon,  and  commit  herself 
to  nobody,  except  the  accredited  messengers  of  the  right 
honorable  Court;  while  the  other  was  addressed  to  all  sub- 
jects of  His  Majesty,  having  custody  of  Lorna  Doone,  or  any 
power  over  her.  And  this  last  both  threatened,  and  exhorted, 
and  held  out  hopes  of  recompense,  if  she  were  rendered  truly. 
My  mother,  and  I,  held  consultation  over  both  these  docu- 
ments, with  a  mixture  of  some  wrath  and  fear,  and  a  fork  of 
great  sorrow  to  stir  them.  And  now  having  Jeremy  Stickles' 
leave,  which  he  gave  with  a  nod  when  I  told  him  all,  and  at 
last  made  him  vinder stand  it,  I  laid  bare  to  my  mother  as 
well  what  I  knew,  as  what  I  merely  surmised,  or  guessed,  con- 
cerning Lorna's  parentage.  All  this  she  received  with  great 
tears,  and  wonder,  and  fervent  thanks  to  God,  and  still 
more  fervent  praise  of  her  son,  who  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  it.  However,  now  the  question  was,  how  to  act 
about  these  writs.  And  herein  it  was  most  unlucky,  that  we 
could  not  have  Master  Stickles,  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
world  and  especially  of  the  law-courts,  to  advise  us  what  to 


"^ 


I  ^^ 


ShK     I'kliSMil)     MY     HAND     WITH      HtRS,     THAT     NOW     I     MICHT     1  Kl.l,     HKR 
ALL    OF     IT."  —Vol.    II.    p.    125. 


GETTING  INTO   CHANCERY.  123 

do,  and  to  help  in  doing  it.  And  firstly  of  the  first,  I  said, 
"We  have  rogues  to  deal  with :  but  try  we  not  to  rogue  them." 

To  this,  in  some  measure,  dear  mother  agreed,  though  she 
could  not  see  the  justice  of  it,  yet  thought  that  it  might  be 
wiser,  because  of  our  want  of  practice.  And  then  I  said, 
"  Now,  we  are  bound  to  tell  Lorna,  and  to  serve  her  citation 
upon  her,  which  these  good  fellows  have  given  us." 

"Then  go,  and  do  it  th^'self,  my  son,"  mother  replied  Avith 
a  mournful  smile,  misdoubting  what  the  end  might  be.  So  I 
took  the  slip  of  broAvn  parchment,  and  went  to  seek  my 
darling. 

Lorna  was  in  her  favorite  place,  the  little  garden  which  she 
tended  with  such  care  and  diligence.  Seeing  how  the  maiden 
loved  it,  and  Avas  happy  there,  I  had  labored  hard  to  fence  it 
from  the  dangers  of  the  Avood.  And  here  she  had  corrected 
me,  with  better  taste,  and  sense  of  pleasure,  and  the  joys  of 
musing.  For  I  meant  to  shut  out  the  brook,  and  build  my 
fence  inside  of  it:  but  Lorna  said  no;  if  Ave  must  have  a  fence, 
which  could  not  but  be  injury,  at  any  rate  leave  the  stream 
inside,  and  a  pleasant  bank  beyond  it.  And  soon  I  perceived 
that  she  was  right,  though  not  so  much  as  afterAvards ;  for  the 
fairest  of  all  things  in  a  garden,  and  in  summer-time  most 
useful,  is  a  brook  of  crystal  water;  where  a  man  may  come 
and  meditate,  and  the  iloAvers  may  lean  and  see  themseh^es, 
and  the  rays  of  tlie  sun  are  purified.  Noav  partly  Avith  her  OAvn 
white  hands,  and  partly  Avith  CxAvenny's  red  ones,  Lorna  had 
made  of  this  sunny  spot  a  haven  of  beauty  to  dwell  in.  It 
Avas  not  only  that  colors  lay  in  the  harmony  we  Avould  seek  of 
them;  neither  Avas  it  the  height  of  plants,  sloping  to  one 
another;  nor  even  the  delicate  tone  of  foliage  following  suit, 
and  neighboring.  Even  the  breathing  of  the  Avind,  soft  and 
gentle  in  and  out,  moving  things  that  need  not  move,  and 
passing  longer-stalked  ones,  even  this  Avas  not  enough  among 
the  flush  of  fragrance,  to  tell  a  man  the  reason  of  liis  quiet 
satisfaction.  But  so  it  shall  for  ever  be.  As  the  river  we 
float  upon  (Avith  wine,  and  flowers,  and  miisic)  is  nothing  at 
the  Avell-spring  but  a  bubble  Avithout  reason. 

Feeling  many  tilings,  but  tliinking  Avithout  much  to  guide 
me,  over  the  grass-plats  laid  between,  I  went  up  to  Lorna. 
She  in  a  shoAver  of  damask  roses,  raised  her  eyes,  and  looked 
at  me.  And  ev'on  now,  in  tliose  SAveet  eyes,  so  dee]»  with  lov- 
ingkindness  and  soft  maiden  dream ings,  there  seemed  to  be  a 
slight  unAvilling,  half-confessed  AvithdraAval ;  overcome  by  love 
and  duty,  yet  a  painful  tiling  to  see. 


124  LOBNA  BOONE. 

"Darling,"  I  said,  "are  your  spirits  good?  Are  you  strong 
enough  to-day,  to  bear  a  tale  of  cruel  sorrow ;  but  which  per- 
haps, when  your  tears  are  shed,  will  leave  you  all  the 
happier?" 

"What  can  you  mean?"  she  answered  trembling,  not  hav- 
ing been  very  strong  of  late,  and  now  surprised  at  my  manner : 
"are  you  come  to  give  me  up,  John?" 

"Not  very  likely,"  I  replied;  "neither  do  I  hope  such  a 
thing  would  leave  you  all  the  happier.  Oh,  Lorna,  if  you 
can  think  that,  so  quickly  as  you  seem  to  have  done ;  now  you 
have  every  prospect,  and  strong  temptation  to  it.  You  are 
far,  far  above  me  in  the  world;  and  I  have  no  right  to  claim 
you.  Perhaps,  when  you  have  heard  these  tidings,  you  will 
say,  'John  Ridd,  begone;  your  life  and  mine  are  parted.'  " 

"Will  I?"  cried  Lorna,  with  all  the  brightness  of  her  play- 
ful ways  returning:  "you  very  foolish  and  jealous  John,  how 
shall  I  punish  you  for  this?  Am  I  to  forsake  every  flower  I 
have,  and  not  even  know  that  the  world  goes  round,  while  I 
look  up  at  you  the  whole  day  long,  and  say,  'John,  I  love, 
love,  love  you?  " 

During  these  words,  she  leaned  upon  me,  half  in  gay  imita- 
tion of  what  I  so  often  made  her  do,  and  half  in  depth  of 
earnestness,  as  the  thrice-repeated  word  grew  stronger,  and 
grew  warmer,  with  and  to  her  heart.  And  as  she  looked  up 
at  the  finish,  saying,  "you,"  so  musically,  I  was  much  in- 
clined to  clasp  her  round;  but  remembering  who  she  was,  for- 
bore; at  which  she  seemed  surprised  with  me. 

"Mistress  Lorna,"  I  replied,  with  I  know  not  what  tempta- 
tion, making  little  of  her  caresses,  though  more  than  all  my 
heart  to  me;  "Mistress  Lorna,  you  must  keep  your  rank  and 
proper  dignity.  You  must  never  look  at  me  with  anything 
but  pity  now." 

"I  shall  look  at  you  with  pity,  John,"  said  Lorna,  trying 
to  laugh  it  off,  yet  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  me,  "  if  you 
talk  any  more  of  this  nonsense,  knowing  me  as  you  ought  to 
do.  I  shall  even  begin  to  think  that  you,  and  your  friends, 
are  weary  of  me,  and  of  so  long  supporting  me ;  and  are  only 
seeking  cause  to  send  me  back  to  my  old  misery.  If  it  be  so, 
I  will  go.  My  life  matters  little  to  any  one."  Here  the  great 
bright  tears  arose ;  but  the  maiden  was  too  proud  to  sob. 

"  Sweetest  of  all  sweet  loves,"  I  cried,  for  the  sign  of  a  tear 
defeated  me ;  "  what  possibility  could  make  me  ever  give  up 
Lorna?" 

"Dearest  of  all  dears,"  she  answered;  "if  you  dearly  love 
me,  what  possibility  could  make  me  ever  give  you  up,  dear?" 


GETTING  INTO   CHANCERY.  125 

Upon  that  there  was  bo  more  forbearing;  but  I  kissed,  and 
clasped  her,  whether  she  were  Countess,  or  whether  Queen  of 
England ;  mine  she  was,  at  least  in  heart ;  and  mine  she  should 
be  wholly.  And  she  being  of  the  same  opinion,  nothing  was 
said  between  us. 

"Now,  Lorna,"  said  I,  as  she  hung  on  my  arm,  willing  to 
trust  me  anywhere,  "  come  to  your  little  plant-house,  and  hear 
my  moving  story." 

"iSTo  story  can  move  me  much,  dear,"  she  answered  rather 
faintly,  for  any  excitement  stayed  with  her;  "since  I  know 
your  strength  of  kindness,  scarcely  any  tale  can  move  me, 
unless  it  be  of  yourself,  love;  or  of  my  poor  mother." 

"  It  is  of  your  poor  mother,  darling.  Can  you  bear  to  hear 
it?  "  And  yet  I  wondered  why  she  did  not  say  as  much  of  her 
father. 

"  Yes,  I  can  hear  anything.  But  although  I  cannot  see  her, 
and  have  long  forgotten,  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  ill  of  her." 

"  There  is  no  ill  to  hear,  sweet  child,  except  of  evil  done  to 
her.     Lorna,  you  are  of  an  ill-starred  race." 

"Better  that  than  a  wicked  race,"  she  answered  with  her 
usual  quickness,  leaping  at  conclusion:  "tell  me  I  am  not  a 
Doone,  and  I  will  —  but  I  cannot  love  you  more." 

"  You  are  not  a  Doone,  my  Lorna,  for  that,  at  least,  I  can 
answer;  though  I  know  not  what  your  name  is." 

"  And  my  father  —  your  father  —  what  I  mean  is " 

"Your  father  and  mine  never  met  one  another.  Your 
father  was  killed  by  an  accident  in  the  Pyrenean  mountains, 
and  your  mother  by  the  Doones ;  or  at  least  they  caused  her 
death,  and  carried  you  away  from  her." 

All  this,  coming  as  in  one  breath  upon  the  sensitive  maiden, 
was  more  than  she  could  bear  all  at  once;  as  any  but  a  fool 
like  me  must  of  course  have  known.  She  lay  back  on  the 
garden  bench,  with  lier  black  hair  shed  on  the  oaken  bark, 
wliile  her  color  went  and  came;  and  only  by  that,  and  her 
quivering  breast,  could  any  one  say  that  slie  lived  and  thought. 
And  yet  she  pressed  my  hand  with  hers,  that  now  I  might  tell 
her  all  of  it. 


126  LORNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTER   LVI. 

JOHN  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAR. 

No  flower  that  I  have  ever  seen,  either  in  shifting  of  light 
and  shade,  or  in  the  pearly  morning,  may  vie  with  a  fair 
yonng  woman's  face  when  tender  thought  and  quick  emotion 
vary,  enrich,  and  beautify  it.  Thus  my  Lorna  hearkened 
softly,  almost  without  word  or  gesture,  yet  with  sighs  and 
glances  telling,  and  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  how  each  word 
was  moving  her. 

When  at  last  my  tale  was  done,  she  turned  away,  and  wept 
bitterly  for  the  sad  fate  of  her  parents.  But  to  my  surprise, 
she  spoke  not  even  a  word  of  wrath  or  rancor.  She  seemed 
to  take  it  all  as  fate. 

"Lorna,  darling,"  I  said  at  length,  for  men  are  more  impa- 
tient in  trials  of  time  than  women  are,  "  do  you  not  even  wisli 
to  know  what  your  proper  name  is?" 

"How  can  it  matter  to  me,  John?"  she  answered,  with  a 
depth  of  grief  which  made  me  seem  a  trifler.  "  It  can  never 
matter  now,  when  there  are  none  to  share  it." 

"Poor  little  soul!  "  was  all  I  said,  in  a  tone  of  purest  pity; 
and  to  my  surprise  she  turned  upon  me,  caught  me  in  her 
arms,  and  loved  me,  as  she  never  had  done  before. 

"Dearest,  I  have  you,"  she  cried:  "you,  and  only  you, 
love.  Having  you,  I  want  no  other.  All  my  life  is  one  with 
yours.     Oh,  John,  how  can  I  treat  you  so?" 

Blushing  through  the  wet  of  weeping,  and  the  gloom  of 
pondering,  yet  she  would  not  hide  her  eyes,  but  folded  me, 
and  dwelled  on  me. 

"I  cannot  believe,"  in  the  pride  of  my  joy,  I  whispered  into 
one  little  ear,  "  that  you  could  ever  so  love  me,  beauty,  as  to 
give  up  the  world  for  me." 

"  Would  you  give  up  your  farm  for  me,  John?  "  cried  Lorna, 
leaping  back  and  looking,  with  her  wondrous  power  of  light, 
at  me;  "would  you  give  up  your  mother,  your  sisters,  your 
home,  and  all  that  you  have  in  the  world,  and  every  hope  of 
your  life,  John?  " 

"Of  course  I  would.  Without  two  thoughts.  You  know 
it;  you  know  it,  Lorna." 

"It  is  true  tliat  I  do,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of  deepest 
sadness ;  "  and  it  is  this  power  of  your  love  which  has  made 


JOHN  BECOMES    TOO  POPULAR.  127 

me  love  you  so.  No  good  can  come  of  it;  no  good.  God's 
face  is  set  against  selfisliness." 

As  she  spoke  in  that  low  tone,  I  gazed  at  the  clear  lines  of 
her  face  (where  every  curve  was  perfect),  not  Vv^ith  love  and 
wonder  only,  but  with  a  strange  new  sense  of  awe. 

"Darling,"  I  said,  "come  nearer  to  me.  Give  me  surety 
against  tliat.  For  God's  sake  never  frighten  me,  with  the 
thought  that  He  Avould  part  us." 

"Does  it,  then,  so  frighten  you?"  she  whispered,  coming 
close  to  me ;  "  I  know  it,  dear ;  I  have  known  it  long ;  but  it 
never  frightens  me.  It  makes  me  sad,  and  very  lonely,  till  I 
can  remember ! " 

"Till  you  can  remember  what?"  I  asked  with  a  long,  deep 
shudder;  for  we  are  so  superstitious. 

"  Until  I  do  remember,  love,  that  you  will  soon  come  back 
to  me,  and  be  my  own  for  ever.  This  is  what  I  always  think 
of;  this  is  what  I  hope  for." 

Although  her  eyes  were  so  glorious,  and  beaming  with 
eternity,  this  distant  sort  of  beatitude  was  not  much  to  my 
liking.  I  wanted  to  have  my  love  on  earth;  and  my  dear 
wife  in  my  own  home;  and  children  in  good  time,  if  God 
should  please  to  send  us  any.  And  then  I  would  be  to  them 
exactly  what  my  father  was  to  me.  And  besides  all  this, 
I  doubted  much  about  being  iit  for  heaven,  where  no  ploughs 
are,  and  no  cattle;  unless  sacrificed  bulls  went  thither. 

Therefore  I  said,  "Now  kiss  me,  Lorna;  and  don't  talk  any 
nonsense."  And  the  darling  came  and  did  it;  being  kindly 
obedient,  as  tlie  other  Avorld  often  makes  us. 

"  Yovi  sweet  love,"  I  said  at  this,  being  slave  to  her  soft 
obedience;  "do  you  suppose  I  should  be  content  to  leave  you 
until  Elysium?" 

'•  ilow  on  earth  can  I  tell,  dear  John,  what  you  will  be  con- 
tent with?" 

"You  and  only  you,"  said  I;  "the  whole  of  it  lies  in  a 
syllable.  Now  you  know  my  entire  want:  and  want  must  be 
my  comfort." 

"  But  surely  if  I  have  money,  sir,  and  birth,  and  rank,  and 
all  sorts  of  grandeur,  you  never  would  dare  to  think  of  me?  " 

She  drew  herself  up  witli  an  air  of  pride,  as  she  gravely 
pronounced  these  words,  and  gave  me  a  scornful  glance,  or 
tried;  and  turned  away  as  if  to  enter  some  grand  coach  or 
palace;  while  I  was  so  amazed,  and  grieved,  in  my  raw  sim- 
plicity, especially  aft(ir  the  way  in  which  slie  had  first  received 
my  news  (so  loving  and  warm-liearted),  tliat  I  never  said  a 
word,  but  stared  and  thought,  "How  does  sh"  mean  it?" 


128  LORN  A   BOONE. 

She  saw  tlie  pain  upon  my  forehead,  and  the  wonder  in  my 
eyes,  and  leaving  coach  and  palace  too,  back  she  flew  to  me 
in  a  moment,  as  simple  as  simplest  milkmaid. 

"  Oh,  you  fearfully  stupid  John,  you  inexpressibly  stupid 
John,"  she  cried,  with  both  arms  round  my  neck,  and  her  lips 
upon  my  forehead;  "you  have  called  yourself  thick-headed, 
John;  and  I  never  would  believe  it.  But  now  I  do  with  all 
my  heart.     Will  you  never  know  what  I  am,  love?" 

"  No,  Lorna,  that  I  never  shall.  I  can  understand  my  mother 
well,  and  one  at  least  of  my  sisters,  and  both  the  Snowe  girls 
very  easily;  but  you  I  never  understand,  only  love  you  all 
the  more  for  it." 

"Then  never  try  to  understand  me,  if  the  result  is  that, 
dear  John.  And  yet  I  am  the  very  simplest  of  all  foolish 
simple  creatures.  Nay,  I  am  wrong;  therein  I  yield  the  palm 
to  you,  my  dear.  To  think  that  I  can  act  so!  No  wonder 
they  want  me  in  London,  as  an  ornament  for  the  stage,  John." 

Now  in  after  days,  when  I  heard  of  Lorna,  as  the  richest, 
and  noblest,  and  loveliest  lady  to  be  found  in  London,  I  often 
remembered  that  little  scene,  and  recalled  every  word  and 
gesture,  wondering  what  lay  under  it.  Even  now,  while  it 
was  quite  impossible  once  to  doubt  those  clear  deep  eyes,  and 
the  bright  lips  trembling  so ;  nevertheless  I  felt  how  much  the 
world  would  have  to  do  with  it ;  and  that  the  best  and  truest 
people  cannot  shake  themselves  quite  free.  However,  for  the 
moment,  I  was  very  proud,  and  showed  it. 

And  herein  differs  fact  from  fancy,  things  as  they  befall  us 
from  things  as  we  would  have  them,  human  ends  from  human 
will;  that  the  first  are  moved  by  a  thousand,  and  the  last  on 
two  wheels  only,  which  (being  named)  are  —  desire,  and  fear. 
Hope,  for  instance,  is  nothing  more  than  desire  with  a  tele- 
scope, magnifying  distant  matters,  overlooking  near  ones; 
opening  one  eye  on  the  objects,  closing  the  other  to  all  objec- 
tions. And  if  hope  be  the  futiire  tense  of  desire,  the  future 
of  fear  is  religion  —  at  least  with  too  many  of  us. 

Whether  I  am  right,  or  wrong,  in  these  small  moralities, 
one  thing  is  sure  enough,  to  wit,  that  hope  is  the  fastest  trav- 
eller, at  any  rate  in  the  time  of  youth.  And  so  I  hoped  that 
Lorna  might  be  proved  of  blameless  family,  and  honorable 
rank  and  fortune;  and  yet  none  the  less  for  that,  love  me, 
and  belong  to  me.  So  I  led  her  into  the  house,  and  she  fell 
into  my  mother's  arms;  and  I  left  them  to  have  a  good  cry  of 
it,  with  Annie  ready  to  help  them. 

If  Master  Stickles  should  not  mend  enough  to   gain   his 


JOHN  BECOMES    TOO  POPULAR.  129 

speech  a  little,  and  declare  to  us  all  he  knew,  I  was  to  set  out 
for  Watchett,  riding  upon  horseback,  and  there  to  hire  a  cart 
with  wheels,  such  as  we  had  not  begun  as  yet  to  use  on  Ex- 
moor.  For  all  our  work  went  on  broad  wood,  with  runners 
and  with  earth  boards;  and  many  of  us  still  looked  upon 
wheels  (though  mentioned  in  the  Bible)  as  the  invention  of 
the  Evil  one,  and  Pharaoh's  especial  property. 

Now  instead  of  getting  better,  Colonel  Stickles  grew  worse 
and  worse,  in  spite  of  all  our  tendance  of  him,  with  simples 
and  with  nourishment,  and  no  poisonous  medicines,  such  as 
doctors  would  have  given  him.  And  the  fault  of  this  lay  not 
with  us,  but  purely  with  himself,  and  his  unquiet  constitution. 
For  he  roused  himself  up  to  a  perfect  fever,  when  through 
Lizzie's  giddiness  he  learned  the  very  thing  which  mother  and 
Annie  were  hiding  from  him  with  the  utmost  care :  namely, 
that  Serjeant  Bloxham  had  taken  upon  himself  to  send  direct 
to  London,  by  the  Chancery  officers,  a  full  report  of  what 
had  happened,  and  of  the  illness  of  his  chief,  together  with 
an  urgent  prayer  for  a  full  battalion  of  King's  troops,  and  a 
plenary  commander. 

This  Serjeant  Bloxham,  being  senior  of  the  surviving  sol- 
diers, ^nd  a  very  worthy  man  in  his  way,  but  a  trifle  over 
zealous,  had  succeeded  to  the  captaincy  upon  his  master's 
disablement.  Then,  with  desire  to  serve  his  country  and 
show  his  education,  he  sat  up  most  part  of  three  nights,  and 
wrote  this  wonderful  report  by  the  aid  of  our  stable  lanthorn. 
It  was  a  very  fine  piece  of  work,  as  three  men  to  whom  he 
read  it  (but  only  one  at  a  time)  pronounced,  being  under  seal 
of  secrecy.  And  all  might  have  gone  well  with  it,  if  the 
author  could  only  have  held  his  tongue,  when  near  the  ears  of 
women.  But  this  was  beyond  his  sense,  as  it  seems,  although 
so  good  a  writer.  For  having  heard  that  our  Lizzie  was  a 
famous  judge  of  literature  (as  indeed  she  told  almost  every 
one)  he  could  not  contain  himself,  but  must  have  her  opinion 
upon  his  work. 

Lizzie  sat  on  a  log  of  wood,  and  listened  with  all  her  ears 
up,  having  made  proviso  that  no  one  else  should  be  there  to 
interrupt  her.  And  she  put  in  a  syllable  here  and  there,  and 
many  a  time  she  took  out  one  (for  the  Serjeant  overloaded  his 
gun,  more  often  than  undercharged  it;  like  a  liberal  man  of 
letters)  and  then  she  declared  the  result  so  good,  and  the  style 
to  be  so  elegant,  so  chaste,  and  yet  so  fervent,  that  the  Ser- 
jeant broke  his  \)\\)(i  in  three,  and  hdl  in  love  with  her  on  the 
spot.  Now  this  has  led  me  out  of  my  way;  as  things  are 
VOL.  u.  —  a 


130  LORN  A   BOONE. 

always  doing,  partly  through  their  own  perverseness,  partly 
through  my  kind  desire  to  give  fair  turn  to  all  of  them,  and 
to  all  the  people  avIio  do  them.  If  any  one  expects  of  me  a 
strict  and  well-drilled  story,  standing  "  at  attention  "  all  the 
time,  with  hands  at  the  side  like  two  wens  on  my  trunk,  and 
eyes  going  neither  right  nor  left;  I  trow  that  man  has  been 
disappointed  many  a  page  ago,  and  has  left  me  to  my  evil 
ways ;  and  if  not,  I  love  his  charity.  Therefore  let  me  seek 
his  grace,  and  get  back,  and  just  begin  again. 

That  great  despatch  was  sent  to  London  by  the  Chancery 
officers,  whom  we  fitted  up  with  clothes,  and  for  three  days 
fattened  them ;  which  in  strict  justice  they  needed  much,  as 
well  as  in  point  of  equity.  Tliey  were  kind  enough  to  be 
pleased  with  us,  and  accepted  my  new  shirts  generously :  and 
urgent  as  their  business  was,  another  week  (as  they  both 
declared)  could  do  no  harm  to  nobody,  and  might  set  them 
upon  their  legs  again.  And  knowing,  although  they  were 
London-men,  that  fish  do  live  in  water,  these  two  fellows 
went  fishing  all  day,  but  never  landed  any  thing.  However 
their  holiday  was  cut  short;  for  the  Serjeant,  having  finished 
now  his  narrative  of  proceedings,  was  not  the  man  to  let  it 
hang  fire,  and  be  quenched  perhaps  by  Stickles. 

Therefore,  having  done  their  business,  and  served  both  cita- 
tions, these  two  good  men  had  a  pannier  of  victuals  put  up  by 
dear  Annie,  and  borrowing  two  of  our  horses,  rode  to  Dunster, 
where  they  left  them,  and  hired  on  towards  London.  We 
had  not  time  to  like  them  much,  and  so  we  did  not  miss  them, 
especially  in  our  great  anxiety  about  poor  Master  Stickles. 

Jeremy  lay  between  life  and  death,  for  at  least  a  fortnight. 
If  the  link  of  chain  had  flown  upwards  (for  half-a-link  of 
chain  it  was  which  took  him  in  the  mouth  so),  even  one  inch 
upwards,  the  poor  man  could  have  needed  no  one  except  Par- 
son Bowden;  for  the  bottom  of  his  skull,  which  holds  the 
brain  as  in  an  egg-cup,  must  have  clean  gone  from  him.  But 
striking  him  horizontally,  and  a  little  upon  the  skew,  the 
metal  came  out  at  the  back  of  the  neck,  and  (the  powder  not 
being  strong,  I  suppose)  it  lodged  in  his  leather  collar. 

Now  the  rust  of  this  iron  hung  in  the  wound,  or  at  least  we 
thought  so ;  though  since  I  have  talked  with  a  man  of  medi- 
cine, I  am  not  so  sure  of  it.  And  our  chief  aim  was  to  purge 
this  rust;  when  rather  we  should  have  stopped  the  hole,  and 
let  the  oxide  do  its  worst,  with  a  plug  of  new  flesh  on  both 
sides  of  it. 

At  last  I  prevailed  upon  him,  by  argument,  that  he  must 


JOHN  BECOMES   TOO  POPULAR.  131 

get  better,  to  save  himself  from  being  ignobly  and  unjustly 
superseded;  and  hereupon  I  reviled  Serjeant  IJloxham  more 
fiercely  than  Jeremy's  self  could  have  done,  and  indeed  to 
such  a  pitch  that  Jeremy  almost  forgave  him,  and  became 
much  milder.  And  after  that  his  fever,  and  the  inflamma- 
tion of  his  wound,  diminished  very  rapidly. 

However,  not  knowing  what  might  happen,  or  even  how 
soon  poor  Lorna  might  be  taken  from  our  power,  and,  falling 
into  lawyer's  hands,  have  cause  to  wish  herself  most  heartily 
back  among  robbers,  I  set  forth  one  day  for  Watchett,  taking 
advantage  of  the  visit  of  some  troopers  from  an  outpost,  who 
would  make  our  house  quite  safe.  I  rode  alone,  being  fully 
primed,  and  having  no  misgivings.  For  it  was  said  that  even 
the  Doones  had  begun  to  fear  me,  since  I  cast  their  culverin 
through  the  door,  as  above  related;  and  they  could  not  but 
believe,  from  my  being  still  untouched  (although  so  large  an 
object)  in  the  thickest  of  their  lire,  both  of  gun  and  cannon, 
that  I  must  bear  a  charmed  life,  proof  against  ball  and  bullet. 
However,  I  knew  that  Carver  Doone  was  not  a  likely  man  to 
hold  any  superstitious  opinions ;  and  of  him  I  had  an  unshapen 
dread,  although  quite  ready  to  face  him. 

Riding  along,  1  meditated  upon  Lorna's  history;  how  many 
things  were  now  beginning  to  unfold  themselves,  which  had 
been  obscure  and  dark!  For  instance.  Sir  Ensor  Doone's  con- 
sent, or  to  say  the  least  his  indifference,  to  her  marriage  with 
a  yeoman;  which  in  a  man  so  proud  (though  dying)  had  greatly 
puzzled  both  of  us.  But  now,  if  she  not  only  proved  to  be  no 
grandchild  of  the  Doone,  but  even  descended  from  his  enemy, 
it  was  natural  enough  that  he  should  feel  no  great  repugnance 
to  her  humiliation.  And  that  Lorna's  father  had  been  a  foe 
to  the  house  of  Doone  I  gathered  from  her  mother's  cry  wlien 
she  beheld  their  leader.  Moreover  that  fact  would  supply  their 
motive  in  carrying  off  the  unfortunate  little  creature,  and  rear- 
ing lier  among  tliem,  and  as  one  of  their  own  family;  yet  hid- 
ing her  true  birth  from  her.  She  was  a  "great  card,"  as  we 
say,  when  playing  All-fours  at  Christmas-time;  and  if  one  of 
them  could  marry  her,  before  she  learned  of  right  and  wrong, 
vast  property,  enough  to  buy  pardons  for  a  thousand  Doones, 
would  be  at  their  mercy.  And  since  I  Avas  come  to  know  Lorna 
better,  and  she  to  know  me  tlioroughly  —  many  tilings  had 
been  outs|)oken,  wliicli  her  early  Itaslii'ulness  liad  kcjjt  covered 
from  me.  Attempts  T  mean  to  pledge  her  love  to  this  one,  or 
that  other;  some  of  which  ])('rhaps  miglit  have  been  successful, 
if  there  had  not  been  too  many. 


132  LOBNA   BOONE. 

And  then,  as  her  beauty  grew  richer  and  brighter,  Carver 
Doone  was  smitten  strongly,  and  woukl  hear  of  no  one  else  as 
a  suitor  for  her;  and  by  the  terror  of  his  claim  drove  off  all 
the  others.  Here  too  lay  the  explanation  of  a  thing  which 
seemed  to  be  against  the  laws  of  human  nature,  and  upon  which 
I  longed,  but  dared  not,  to  cross-question  Lorna.  How  could 
such  a  lovely  maid,  although  so  young,  and  brave,  and  distant, 
have  escaped  the  vile  affections  of  a  lawless  company? 

But  now  it  was  as  clear  as  need  be.  For  any  proven  vio- 
lence would  have  utterly  vitiated  all  claim  upon  her  grand 
estates ;  at  least  as  those  claims  must  be  urged  before  a  court 
of  equity.  And  therefore  all  the  elders  (with  views  upon  her 
real  estate)  kept  strict  watch  on  the  youngers,  who  confined 
their  views  to  her  personality. 

Now  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  all  this,  or  the  hundred  other 
things  which  came,  crowding  consideration,  were  half  as  plain 
to  me  at  the  time,  as  I  have  set  them  down  above.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  deceive  you  so.  No  doubt  my  thoughts  were  then 
dark  and  hazy,  like  an  oil-lamp  full  of  fungus;  and  I  have 
trimmed  them,  as  though  at  the  time,  with  scissors  sharpened 
long  afterwards.  All  I  mean  to  say  is  this,  that  jogging 
along  to  a  certain  tune  of  the  horse's  feet,  which  we  call  "three 
half -pence  and  two  pence,"  I  saw  my  way  a  little  into  some 
things  which  had  jDuzzled  me. 

When  I  knocked  at  the  little  door,  whose  sill  was  gritty  and 
grimed  with  sand,  no  one  came  for  a  very  long  time  to  answer 
me,  or  to  let  me  in.  Not  wishing  to  be  unmannerly,  I  waited  a 
long  time,  and  watched  the  sea,  from  which  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing; and  whose  many  lips  of  waves  —  though  the  tide  was 
halfway  out  —  spoke  to  and  refreshed  me.  After  a  while  I 
knocked  again,  for  my  horse  was  becoming  hungry;  and  a 
good  while  after  that  again,  a  voice  came  through  the  key- 
hole — 

"Who  is  that  wishes  to  enter?" 

"The  boy  who  was  at  the  pump,"  said  I,  "when  the  carriage 
broke  down  at  Dulverton.  The  boy  that  lives  at  oh  —  ah;  and 
some  day  you  would  come  seek  for  him." 

"Oh  yes,  I  remember  certainly.  My  leetle  boy,  with  the 
fair  white  skin.  I  have  desired  to  see  him,  oh  many,  yes, 
many  times." 

She  was  opening  the  door,  while  saying  this ;  and  then  she 
started  back  in  affright,  that  the  little  boy  should  have  grown 
so. 

"You  cannot  be  that  leetle  boy.  It  is  quite  impossible. 
Why  do  you  impose  on  me?" 


JOHN  BECOMES   TOO  POPULAR.  133 

"Not  only  am  I  tliat  little  boy,  wlio  made  the  water  to  flow 
for  you,  till  the  nebule  came  upon  the  glass ;  but  also  I  am 
come  to  tell  you  all  about  your  little  girl." 

"Come  in,  you  very  great  leetle  boy,"  she  answered,  with 
her  dark  eyes  brightened.  And  I  went  in,  and  looked  at  her. 
She  was  altered  by  time,  as  much  as  I  was.  The  slight  and 
graceful  shape  was  gone ;  not  that  I  remembered  anything  of 
her  figure,  if  you  please ;  for  boys  of  twelve  are  not  yet  prone 
to  note  the  shapes  of  women ;  but  that  her  lithe  straight  gait 
had  struck  me  as  being  so  unlike  our  people.  Now  her  time 
for  walking  so  was  past,  and  transmitted  to  her  children.  Yet 
her  face  was  comely  still,  and  full  of  strong  intelligence.  I 
gazed  at  her,  and  she  at  me :  and  we  were  sure  of  one  another. 

"Xow  what  will  ye  please  to  eat?"  she  asked,  with  a  lively 
glance  at  the  size  of  my  mouth :  "  that  is  always  the  first  thing 
you  people  ask,  in  these  barbarous  places." 

"  I  will  tell  you  by-and-by, "  I  answered,  misliking  this  satire 
upon  us :  "  but  I  might  begin  with  a  quart  of  ale,  to  enable 
me  to  speak,  madam." 

"  Very  well.  One  quevart  of  be-or : "  she  called  out  to  a 
little  maid,  who  was  her  eldest  child,  no  doubt.  "  It  is  to  be 
expected,  sir.  Be-or,  be-or,  be-or,  all  day  long,  with  you  Eng- 
lishmen! " 

"Nay,"  I  replied;  "not  all  day  long,  if  madam  will  excuse 
me.  Only  a  pint  at  breakfast-time,  and  a  pint  and  a  half  at 
eleven  o'clock,  and  a  quart  or  so  at  dinner.  And  then  no  more 
till  the  afternoon;  and  half  a  gallon  at  supper  time.  No  one 
can  object  to  that." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  is  right,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  resig- 
nation: "God  knows.  But  I  do  not  understand  it.  It  is 'good 
for  business,'  as  you  say,  to  preclude  every  thing." 

"And  it  is  good  for  us,  madam,"  I  answered  with  indigna- 
tion, for  beer  is  my  favorite  beverage:  "and  I  am  a  credit  to 
beer,  madam;  and  so  are  all  who  trust  to  it." 

"At  any  rate  you  are,  young  man.  If  beer  has  made  you 
grow  so  large,  I  will  put  my  children  upon  it;  it  is  too  late  for 
me  to  begin.     The  smell  to  me  is  hateful." 

Now  I  only  set  do^vn  that  to  show  how  perverse  those  for- 
eign people  are.  They  will  drink  their  wretclied  heartless 
stuff,  such  as  they  call  claret,  or  wine  of  Medoc,  or  Bordeaux, 
or  what  not,  with  no  more  meaning  than  sour  rennet,  stirred 
with  the  pulp  from  tlie  cider  press,  and  strained  tlirougli  the 
cap  of  our  Betty.  Tliis  is  very  well  for  them;  and  as  good  as 
they  deserve,  no  doubt;  and  meant  perhaps  by  the  will  of  God 


134  LOBNA  BOONE. 

for  those  unhappy  natives.  But  to  bring  it  over  to  England, 
and  set  it  against  our  home-brewed  ale  (not  to  speak  of  wines 
from  Portugal),  and  sell  it  at  ten  times  the  priee,  as  a  cure  for 
British  bile,  and  a  great  enlightenment;  this  I  say  is  the  vilest 
feature  of  the  age  we  live  in. 

Madame  Benita  Odam  —  for  the  name  of  the  man  who  turned 
the  wheel  proved  to  be  John  Odam  —  showed  me  into  a  little 
room  containing  two  chairs  and  a  lir-wood  table,  and  sat  down 
on  a  three-legged  seat  and  studied  me  very  steadfastly.  This 
she  had  a  right  to  do;  and  I,  having  all  my  clothes  on  now, 
was  not  disconcerted.  It  would  not  become  me  to  repeat  her 
judgment  upon  my  appearance,  which  she  delivered  as  calmly 
as  if  I  were  a  pig  at  market,  and  as  proudly  as  if  her  own  pig. 
And  she  asked  me  whether  I  had  ever  got  rid  of  the  black 
marks  on  my  breast. 

Not  wanting  to  talk  about  myself  (though  very  fond  of  doing 
so,  when  time  and  seasoii  favor),  I  led  her  back  to  that  fearful 
night  of  the  day  when  first  I  had  seen  her.  She  was  not 
desirous  to  speak  of  it,  because  of  her  own  little  children: 
however,  I  drew  her  gradually  to  recollection  of  Lorna,  and 
then  of  the  little  boy  who  died,  and  the  poor  mother  buried 
with  him.  And  her  strong  hot  nature  kindled,  as  she  dwelled 
upon  these  things:  and  my  wrath  waxed  within  me;  and  we 
forgot  reserve  and  prudence  under  the  sense  of  so  vile  a  wrong. 
She  told  me  (as  nearly  as  might  be)  the  very  same  story  which 
she  had  told  to  Master  Jeremy  Stickles ;  only  she  dwelled  upon 
it  more,  because  of  my  knowing  the  outset.  And  being  a 
woman,  with  an  inkling  of  my  situation,  she  enlarged  upon  the 
little  maid,  more  than  to  dry  Jeremy. 

"Would  you  know  her  again?"  I  asked,  being  stirred  by 
these  accounts  of  Lorna,  when  she  was  five  years  old:  "would 
you  know  her  as  a  full-grown  maiden?  " 

"I  think  I  should,"  she  answered;  "it  is  not  possible  to 
say,  iintil  one  sees  the  person :  but  from  the  eyes  of  the  little 
girl,  I  think  that  I  must  know  her.  Oh,  the  poor  young  crea- 
ture! Is  it  to  be  believed  that  the  cannibals  devoured  her? 
What  a  people  you  are  in  tliis  country!     Meat,  meat,  meat!  " 

As  she  raised  her  hands  and  eyes  in  horror  at  our  carnivo- 
rous propensities,  to  which  she  clearly  attributed  the  disappear- 
ance of  Lorna,  I  could  scarce  help  laughing,  even  after  that 
sad  story.  For  though  it  is  said  at  the  present  day,  and  will 
doubtless  be  said  hereafter,  that  the  Doones  had  devoured  a 
baby  once,  as  they  came  up  Porlock  hill,  after  fighting  hard  in 
the  market-place,  I  knew  that  the  tale  was  utterly  false :  for 


JOHN  BECOMES   TOO  POPULAR.  135 

cruel  and  brutal  as  they  were,  their  taste  was  very  correct  and 
choice,  and  indeed  one  might  say  fastidious.  Nevertheless,  I 
could  not  stop  to  argue  that  matter  with  her. 

"The  little  maid  has  not  been  devoured,"  I  said  to  Mistress 
Odam :  "  and  now  she  is  a  tall  young  lady,  and  as  beautiful  as 
can  be.  If  I  sleep  in  your  good  hostel  to-night,  after  going  to 
Watchett  town,  will  you  come  with  me  to  Oare  to-morrow,  and 
see  your  little  maiden?" 

"  I  would  like  —  and  yet  I  fear.  This  country  is  so  barbar- 
ous. And  I  am  good  to  eat  —  my  God,  there  is  much  picking 
on  my  bones !  " 

She  surveyed  herself  with  a  glance  so  mingled  of  pity  and 
admiration,  and  the  truth  of  her  words  was  so  apparent  (only 
that  it  would  have  taken  a  week  to  get  at  the  bones,  before 
picking),  that  I  nearly  lost  good  manners ;  for  she  really  seemed 
to  suspect  even  me  of  cannibal  inclinations.  However,  at  last 
I  made  her  promise  to  come  with  me  on  the  morrow,  presuming 
that  Master  Odam  could  by  any  means  be  persuaded  to  keep 
her  company  in  the  cart,  as  propriety  demanded.  Having 
little  doubt  that  Master  Udam  was  entirely  at  his  wife's  com- 
mand, I  looked  upon  that  matter  as  settled,  and  set  off  for 
Watchett,  to  see  the  grave  of  Lorna's  poor  mother,  and  to  hire 
a  cart  for  the  morrow. 

And  here  (as  so  often  happens  with  men)  I  succeeded  with- 
out any  trouble  or  hindrance,  where  I  had  looked  for  both  of 
them,  namely  in  finding  a  suitable  cart;  whereas  the  other 
matter,  in  which  I  could  have  expected  no  difficulty,  came  very 
near  to  defeat  me.  For  when  I  heard  that  Lorna's  father  was 
the  Earl  of  Dugal  —  as  Benita  impressed  upon  me  with  a 
strong  enforcement,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Who  are  you,  young 
man,  to  come  even  asking  about  her?"  —  then  I  never  thought 
but  that  every  body  in  Watchett  town  must  know  all  about  the 
tombstone  of  the  Countess  of  Dugal. 

This  however  proved  otlierwise.  For  Lord  Dugal  had  never 
lived  at  Watchett  Grange,  as  their  place  was  called;  neither 
had  his  name  become  familiar  as  its  owner.  IJecause  the 
Grange  had  only  devolved  to  him  by  will,  at  the  end  of  a  long 
entail,  when  the  last  of  the  Fitz-Pains  died  out;  and  though 
he  liked  the  idea  of  it,  he  had  gone  abroad,  without  taking 
seisin.  And  upon  news  of  his  death,  John  Jones,  a  rich  gen- 
tleman from  Llaudaff,  liad  taken  possession,  as  next  of  riglit, 
and  liushed  up  all  the  story.  And  though,  even  at  the  worst 
of  times,  a  lady  of  liigli  rank  and  wealtli  couhl  nnt  bo  rolibed, 
and  as  liad  as  murdered,  and  then  buried  in  a  littk;  place,  witli- 


136  LOENA  BOONE. 

out  moving  some  excitement;  yet  it  had.  been  given  out,  on 
purpose  and  with  diligence,  that  this  was  only  a  foreign  lady, 
travelling  for  her  health  and  pleasure,  along  the  sea-coast  of 
England.  And  as  the  poor  thing  never  spoke,  and  several  of 
her  servants  and  her  baggage  looked  so  foreign,  and  she  herself 
died  in  a  collar  of  lace  unlike  any  made  in  England,  all 
Watchett,  without  hesitation,  pronounced  her  to  be  a  foreigner. 
And  the  English  serving-man  and  maid,  who  might  have 
cleared  up  everything,  either  were  bribed  by  Master  Jones,  or 
else  decamped  of  their  own  accord  with  the  relics  of  the  bag- 
gage. So  the  poor  Countess  of  Dugal,  almost  in  sight  of  her 
own  grand  house,  was  buried  in  an  unknown  grave,  together 
with  her  pair  of  infants,  without  a  plate,  without  a  tombstone 
(worse  than  all),  without  a  tear,  except  from  the  hired  Italian 
woman.     Surely  my  poor  Lorna  came  of  an  ill-starred  family. 

Now  in  spite  of  all  this,  if  I  had  only  taken  Benita  with 
me,  or  even  told  her  what  I  wished,  and  craved  her  directions, 
there  could  have  been  no  trouble.  But  I  do  assure  you  that 
among  the  stupid  people  of  Watchett  (compared  with  whom 
our  folk  of  Oare,  exceeding  dense  though  being,  are  as  Hamlet 
against  Dogberry),  what  with  one  of  them  and  another,  and  the 
firm  conviction  of  all  the  town  that  I  could  be  come  only  to 
wrestle,  I  do  assure  you  (as  I  said  before)  that  my  wits  almost 
went  out  of  me.  And  what  vexed  me  yet  more  about  it  was, 
that  I  saw  my  own  mistake,  in  coming  myself  to  seek  out  the 
matter,  instead  of  sending  some  unknown  person.  For  my  face 
and  form  were  known  at  that  time  (and  still  are  so)  to  nine 
people  out  of  every  ten  living  in  forty  miles  of  me.  Not 
through  any  excellence,  or  any  thing  of  good  desert,  in  either 
the  one  or  the  other,  but  simply  because  folk  will  be  fools,  on 
the  rivalry  of  wrestling.  The  art  is  a  fine  one  in  itself,  and 
demands  a  little  wit  of  brain,  as  well  as  strength  of  body :  it 
binds  the  man  who  studies  it  to  temperance,  and  chastity,  to 
self-respect,  and  most  of  all  to  an  even  and  sweet  temper;  for 
I  have  thrown  stronger  men  than  myself  (when  I  was  a  mere 
sapling,  and  before  my  strength  grew  hard  on  me)  through 
their  loss  of  temper.  But  though  the  art  is  an  honest  one, 
surely  they  who  excel  therein  have  a  right  (like  all  the  rest  of 
mankind)  to  their  own  private  life. 

Be  that  either  way  —  and  I  will  not  speak  too  strongly,  for 
fear  of  indulging  my  own  annoyance  —  any  how,  all  Watchett 
town  cared  ten  times  as  much  to  see  John  Ridd,  as  to  show 
him  what  he  wanted.  I  was  led  to  every  public-house,  instead 
of  to  the  churchyard;  and  twenty  tables  were  ready  for  me,  in 


LORN  A   KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  137 

lieu  of  a  single  gravestone.  "  Zummerzett  thou  bee'st,  Jan 
Ridd,  and  Zummerzett  thou  shalt  be.  Thee  carl  theezell  a 
Davonshire  man!  AVhoy,  thee  lives  in  Zummerzett;  and  in 
Zummerzett  thee  wast  barn,  lad."  And  so  it  went  on,  till  I 
was  weary;  though  very  much  obliged  to  them. 

Steadfast  and  solid  as  I  am,  and  with  a  wild  duck  waiting 
for  me  at  good  Mistress  Odam's,  I  saw  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  yield  to  these  good  people,  and  prove  me  a  man  of 
Somerset  by  eating  a  dinner  at  their  expense.  As  for  the 
churchyard,  none  would  hear  of  it;  and  I  grieved  for  broach- 
ing the  matter. 

But  how  was  I  to  meet  Lorna  again,  without  having  done  the 
thing  of  all  things  which  I  had  promised  to  see  to?  It  would 
never  do  to  tell  her,  that  so  great  was  my  popularity,  and  so 
strong  the  desire  to  feed  me,  that  I  could  not  attend  to  her 
mother.  Least  of  all  could  I  say  that  every  one  in  Watchett 
knew  John  Ridd;  while  none  had  heard  of  the  Countess  of 
Dugal.  And  yet  that  was  about  the  truth,  as  I  hinted  very 
delicately  to  Mistress  Odam  that  evening.  But  she  (being 
vexed  about  her  wild  duck,  and  not  having  English  ideas  on 
the  matter  of  sports,  and  so  on)  made  a  poor  unwitting  face  at 
me.  Nevertheless  Master  Odam  restored  me  to  my  self-respect ; 
for  he  stared  at  me  till  I  went  to  bed ;  and  he  broke  his  hose 
with  excitement.  For  being  in  the  leg-line  myself,  I  wanted 
to  know  what  the  muscles  were  of  a  man  who  turned  a  wheel 
all  day.  I  had  never  seen  a  tread-mill  (though  they  have  one 
now  at  Exeter),  and  it  touched  me  much  to  learn  whether  it 
were  good  exercise.  And  herein,  from  what  I  saw  of  Odam, 
I  incline  to  think  that  it  does  great  harm;  as  moving  the 
muscles  too  much  in  a  line,  and  without  variety. 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

LORNA   KNOWS    HER   NURSE. 

Ha  VINO  obtained  from  Eenita  Odam  a  very  close  and  full 
description  of  tlie  ])lace  wliere  her  poor  mistress  lay,  and  the 
marks  whereljy  to  know  it,  I  hastened  to  Watchett  the  follow- 
ing morning,  before  the  sun  was  up,  or  any  people  were  about. 
And  so,  without  int(!rruy)tion,  I  was  in  the  churchyard  at 
sunrise. 

In  the  furthest  and  darkest  nook,  overgrown  with  grass,  and 


138  LORNA   BOONE, 

overhung  by  a  weeping  tree,  a  little  Lank  of  earth  betokened 
the  rounding  off  of  a  hapless  life.  There  was  nothing  to  tell 
of  rank,  or  wealth,  of  love,  or  even  pity :  nameless  as  a  peasant 
lay  the  last  (as  supposed)  of  a  mighty  race.  Only  some  unskil- 
ful hand,  probably  Master  Odam's  under  his  wife's  teaching, 
had  carved  a  rude  L.,  and  a  ruder  D.,  upon  a  large  pebble  from 
the  beach,  and  set  it  up  as  a  headstone. 

I  gathered  a  little  grass  for  Lorna,  and  a  sprig  of  the  weep- 
ing tree,  and  then  returned  to  the  "Forest  Cat,"  as  Benita's 
lonely  inn  was  called.  For  the  way  is  long  from  Watchett  to 
Oare ;  and  though  you  may  ride  it  rapidly,  as  the  Doones  had 
done  on  that  fatal  night,  to  travel  on  wheels,  with  one  horse 
only,  is  a  matter  of  time  and  of  prudence.  Therefore  we  set 
out  pretty  early,  three  of  us,  and  a  baby,  who  could  not  well 
be  left  behind.  The  wife  of  the  man  who  owned  the  cart  had 
undertaken  to  mind  the  business  and  the  other  babies,  upon 
condition  of  having  the  keys  of  all  the  taps  left  with  her. 

As  the  manner  of  journeying  over  the  moor  has  been  described 
oft  enough  already,  I  will  say  no  more,  except  that  we  all 
arrived,  before  dusk  of  the  summer's  day,  safe  at  Plover's 
Barrows.  Mistress  Benita  was  delighted  with  the  change  from 
her  dull  hard  life ;  and  she  made  many  excellent  observations, 
such  as  seem  natural  to  a  foreigner  looking  at  our  country. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  first  who  came  to  meet  us  at  the 
gate  was  Lorna,  with  nothing  whatever  upon  her  head  (the 
weather  being  summerly),  but  her  beautiful  hair  shed  round 
her;  and  wearing  a  sweet  white  frock  tucked  in,  and  showing 
her  figure  perfectly.  In  her  joy  she  ran  straight  up  to  the 
cart;  and  then  stopped  and  gazed  at  Benita.  At  one  glance 
her  old  nurse  knew  her :  "  Oh  the  eyes,  the  eyes !  "  she  cried, 
and  was  over  the  rail  of  the  cart  in  a  moment,  in  spite  of  all 
her  substance.  Lorna,  on  the  other  .hand,  looked  at  her  with 
some  doubt  and  wonder;  as  though  having  right  to  know  much 
about  her,  and  yet  unable  to  do  so.  But  when  the  foreign 
woman  said  something  in  Koman  language,  and  flung  new  hay 
from  the  cart  upon  her,  as  if  in  a  romp  of  childhood,  the  young 
maid  cried  "  Oh,  Nita,  Nita ! "  and  fell  upon  her  breast,  and 
wept;  and  after  that  looked  round  at  us. 

This  being  so,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  power  of 
proving  Lady  Lorna' s  birth,  and  rights,  both  by  evidence  and 
token.  For  though  we  had  not  the  necklace  now  —  thanks  to 
Annie's  wisdom  —  we  had  the  ring  of  heavy  gold,  a  very  ancient 
relic,  with  which  my  maid  (in  her  simple  way)  had  pledged 
herself  to  me.     And  Benita  knew  this  ring  as  well  as  she  knew 


LORNA   KNOWS  HER   NURSE.  189 

her  own  fingers,  having  heard  a  long  history  about  it;  and  the 
effigy  on  it  of  the  wild  cat  was  the  bearing  of  the  house  of 
Lome. 

For  though  Lorna's  father  was  a  nobleman  of  high  and  goodly 
lineage,  her  mother  was  of  yet  more  ancient  and  renowned 
descent,  being  the  last  in  line  direct  from  the  great  and  kingly 
chiefs  of  Lome.  A  wild  and  headstrong  race  they  were,  and 
must  have  every  thing  their  own  way.  Hot  blood  was  ever 
among  them,  even  of  one  household;  and  tlieir  sovereignty 
(which  more  than  once  had  defied  the  King  of  Scotland)  waned 
and  fell  among  tliemselves,  by  continual  quarrelling.  And  it 
was  of  a  piece  with  this,  that  the  Uoones  (who  were  an  offset, 
by  the  mother's  side,  holding  in  co-partnership  some  large 
property,  which  had  come  by  the  spindle,  as  we  say)  should 
fall  out  with  the  Earl  of  Lome,  the  last  but  one  of  that  title. 

The  daughter  of  tliis  nobleman  had  married  Sir  Ensor  Doone; 
but  this,  instead  of  healing  matters,  led  to  fiercer  conflict. 
I  never  could  quite  understand  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  it; 
which  none  but  a  lawyer  may  go  through,  and  keep  his  head  at 
the  end  of  it.  The  motives  of  mankind  are  plainer  than  the 
motions  they  produce.  Especially  when  charity  (such  as  found 
among  us)  sits  to  judge  the  former,  and  is  never  weary  of  it: 
while  reason  does  not  care  to  trace  the  latter  complications, 
except  for  fee  or  title. 

Therefore  it  is  enough  to  say,  that  knowing  Lorna  to  be 
direct  in  heirship  to  vast  property,  and  bearing  especial  spite 
asrainst  the  liouse  of  which  she  was  the  last,  the  Doones  had 
brought  her  up  with  full  intention  of  lawful  marriage ;  and  had 
carefully  secluded  her  from  the  wildest  of  their  young  gallants. 
Of  course,  if  they  had  been  next  in  succession,  the  child  Avould 
have  gone  down  the  waterfall  to  save  any  further  troulde ;  but 
there  was  an  intercepting  branch  of  some  honest  family;  and 
they  being  outlaws,  would  have  a  poor  chance  (though  the  law 
loves  outlaws)  against  them.  Only  Lorna  Avas  of  the  stock; 
and  Lorna  they  must  marry.  And  what  a  triumph  against  the 
old  ICarl,  for  a  cursed  Doone  to  succeed  him. 

As  for  their  outlawry,  great  robl^eries,  and  grand  murders, 
tlie  veriest  child,  now-a-days,  must  know  that  money  heals  the 
whole  of  that.  Even  if  tliey  had  murdered  people  of  a  good 
l)osition,  it  would  only  cost  about  twice  as  much  to  prove  their 
motives  loyal.  ]>ut  they  had  never  slain  any  man  above  the 
rank  of  yeoman;  and  folk  even  said  that  my  father  was  the 
liighest  of  their  victims ;  for  the  death  of  Lorna's  motlier,  and 
brother,  was  never  set  to  tlioir  account. 


140  LOENA   DOONE. 

Pure  pleasure  it  is  to  any  man,  to  reflect  upon  all  these 
things.  How  truly  we  discern  clear  justice,  and  how  well  we 
deal  it !  If  any  poor  man  steals  a  sheep,  having  ten  children 
starving,  and  regarding  it  as  mountain  game  (as  a  rich  man 
does  a  hare),  to  the  gallows  with  him.  If  a  man  of  rank  beats 
down  a  door,  smites  the  owner  upon  the  head,  and  honors  the 
wife  with  attention,  it  is  a  thing  to  be  grateful  for,  and  to 
slouch  smitten  head  the  lower. 

While  we  were  full  of  all  these  things,  and  wondering  what 
would  happen  next,  or  what  we  ought  ourselves  to  do,  another 
very  important  matter  called  for  our  attention.  This  was  no 
less  than  Annie's  marriage  to  the  Squire,  Faggus.  We  had 
tried  to  put  it  off  again ;  for  in  spite  of  all  advantages,  neither 
my  mother,  nor  myself,  had  any  real  heart  for  it.  Not  that 
we  dwelled  upon  Tom's  shortcomings,  or  rather  perhaps  his 
going  too  far,  at  the  time  when  he  worked  the  road  so.  All 
that  was  covered  by  the  King's  pardon,  and  universal  respect 
of  the  neighborhood.  But  our  scruple  was  this  —  and  the  more 
we  talked  the  more  it  grew  upon  us  —  that  we  both  had  great 
misgivings  as  to  his  future  steadiness. 

For  it  would  be  a  thousand  pities,  we  said,  for  a  fine,  well 
grown,  and  pretty  maiden  (such  as  our  Annie  was),  useful  too 
in  so  many  ways,  and  lively,  and  warm-hearted,  and  mistress 
of  5001.,  to  throw  herself  away  on  a  man  with  a  kind  of  a  turn 
for  drinking.  If  that  last  were  ever  hinted,  Annie  would  be 
most  indignant,  and  ask,  with  cheeks  as  red  as  roses,  who  had 
ever  seen  Master  Faggus  any  the  worse  for  liquor  indeed? 
Her  own  opinion  was,  in  truth,  that  he  took  a  great  deal  too 
little,  after  all  his  hard  work,  and  hard  riding,  and  coming 
over  the  hills  to  be  insulted!  And  if  ever  it  lay  in  her  power, 
and  with  no  one  to  grudge  him  his  trumpery  glass,  she  would 
see  that  poor  Tom  had  the  nourishment  which  his  cough  and 
his  lungs  required. 

His  lungs  being  quite  as  sound  as  mine,  this  matter  was 
out  of  all  argument ;  so  mother  and  I  looked  at  one  another, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "Let  her  go  upstairs:  she  will  cry,  and 
come  down  more  reasonable."  And  while  she  was  gone,  we 
used  to  say  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again ;  but  without 
perceiving  a  cure  for  it.  And  we  almost  always  finished  up 
with  the  following  reflection,  which  sometimes  came  from 
mother's  lips,  and  sometimes  from  my  own:  "Well,  well, 
there  is  no  telling.  None  can  say  how  a  man  may  alter,  when 
he  takes  to  matrimony.  But  if  we  could  only  make  Annie 
promise  to  be  a  little  firm  with  him !  " 


LORN  A   KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  141 

I  fear  that  all  this  talk  on  our  part  only  hurried  matters 
forward,  Annie  being  more  determined  every  time  we  pitied 
her.  And  at  last  Tom  Faggus  came,  and  spoke,  as  if  he  were 
on  the  King's  highroad,  with  a  pistol  at  my  head,  and  one  at 
mother's.  "No  more  fast  and  loose,"  he  cried,  "either  one 
thing,  or  the  other.  I  love  the  maid,  and  she  loves  me ;  and 
we  will  have  one  another,  either  with  your  leave,  or  without 
it.  How  many  more  times  am  I  to  dance  over  these  vile  hills, 
and  leave  my  business,  and  get  nothing  more  than  a  sigh  or  a 
kiss,  and  'Tom,  I  must  wait  for  mother'?  You  are  famous 
for  being  straightforward,  you  Ridds.  Just  treat  me  as  I 
would  treat  you,  now." 

I  looked  at  my  mother;  for  a  glance  from  her  would  have 
sent  Tom  out  of  the  window;  but  she  checked  me  with  her 
hand,  and  said,  "  You  have  some  ground  of  complaint,  sir :  I 
will  not  deny  it.  Now  I  will  be  as  straightforward  with  you, 
as  even  a  Eidd  is  supposed  to  be.  My  son  and  myself  have 
all  along  disliked  your  marriage  with  Annie.  Not  for  what 
you  have  been,  so  much  as  for  what  we  fear  you  will  be. 
Have  patience,  one  moment,  if  you  please.  We  do  not  fear 
your  taking  to  the  highway  life  again;  for  that  you  are  too 
clever,  no  doubt,  now  that  you  have  property.  But  we  fear 
that  you  will  take  to  drinking,  and  to  squandering  money. 
There  are  many  examples  of  this  around  us:  and  we  know 
what  the  fate  of  the  wife  is.     It  has  been  hard  to  tell  you  this, 

under  our  own  roof,  and  with  our  own "     Here  mother 

hesitated. 

"Spirits,  and  cider,  and  beer,"  I  broke  in;  "out  with  it, 
like  a  Ridd,  mother;  as  he  will  have  all  of  it." 

"Spirits,  and  cider,  and  beer,"  said  mother  very  firmly 
after  me ;  and  then  she  gave  way  and  said,  "  You  know,  Tom, 
you  are  welcome  to  every  drop,  and  more  of  it." 

Now  Tom  must  have  had  a  far  sweeter  temper  than  ever  I 
could  claim;  for  I  should  have  thrust  my  glass  aAvay,  and 
never  taken  another  drop  in  the  house  where  such  a  check  had 
met  me.  But  instead  of  that,  Master  Faggus  replied  with  a 
pleasant  smile, — 

"  I  know  that  I  am  welcome,  good  mother;  and  to  prove  it, 
I  will  have  some  more." 

And  thereupon  he  mixed  himself  another  glass  of  hollands, 
witli  lemon  and  hot  water,  yet  ])Ouring  it  very  delicately. 

"  Uli,  1  have  been  so  miserabh!!  —  take  a  little  more, 
Tom,"  said  mother,  handing  the  bottle. 

"Yes,  take  a  little  more,"  I  said;  "you  have  mixed  it  over 
weak,  Tom." 


142  LOBNA   BOONE. 

*'If  ever  there  was  a  sober  man,"  cried  Tom,  complying 
with  our  request;  "if  ever  there  was  in  Christendom  a  man 
of  perfect  sobriety,  that  man  is  now  before  you.  Shall  we 
say  to-morrow  week,  mother?     It  will  suit  your  washing-day." 

"How  very  thoughtful  you  are,  Tom!  Now  John  would 
never  have  thought  of  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  steadiness." 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  answered  proudly;  "  when  my  time  comes 
for  Lorna,  I  shall  not  study  Betty  Muxworthy." 

In  this  way  the  Squire  got  over  us;  and  Farmer  Nicholas 
Snowe  was  sent  for,  to  counsel  with  mother  about  the  matter, 
and  to  set  his  two  daughters  sewing. 

When  the  time  for  the  wedding  came,  there  was  such  a  stir 
and  commotion  as  had  never  been  known  in  the  parish  of  Oare 
since  my  father's  marriage.  For  Annie's  beauty  and  kindli- 
ness had  made  her  the  pride  of  the  neighborhood;  and  the 
presents  sent  her,  from  all  around,  were  enough  to  stock  a 
shop  with.  Master  Stickles,  who  now  could  walk,  and  who  cer- 
tainly owed  his  recovery,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  to  Annie, 
presented  her  with  a  mighty  Bible,  silver-clasped,  and  very 
handsome,  beating  the  parson's  out  and  out,  and  for  which  he 
had  sent  to  Taunton.  Even  the  common  troopers,  having 
tasted  her  cookery  many  times  (to  help  out  their  poor  rations), 
clubbed  together,  and  must  have  given  at  least  a  week's  pay 
apiece,  to  have  turned  out  what  they  did  for  her.  This  was 
no  less  than  a  silver  pot,  well  designed,  but  suited  surely 
rather  to  the  bridegroom's  taste  than  bride's.  In  a  word, 
every  body  gave  her  things. 

And  now  my  Lorna  came  to  me,  with  a  spring  of  tears  in 
appealing  eyes  —  for  she  was  still  somewhat  childish,  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  more  childish  now  than  when  she  lived 
in  misery,  —  and  she  placed  her  little  hands  in  mine,  and  she 
was  half  afraid  to  speak,  and  dropped  her  eyes  for  me  to  ask. 

"What  is  it,  little  darling?"  I  asked,  as  I  saw  her  breath 
come  fast;  for  the  smallest  excitement  moved  her  form. 

"  You  don't  think,  John,  you  don't  think,  dear,  that  you 
could  lend  me  any  money?" 

"All  I  have  got,"  I  answered:  "how  much  do  you  want, 
dear  heart?  " 

"I  have  been  calculating;  and  I  fear  that  I  cannot  do  any 
good  with  less  than  ten  pounds,  John." 

Here  she  looked  up  at  me,  with  horror  at  the  grandeur  of 
the  sum,  and  not  knowing  what  I  could  think  of  it.  But  I 
kept  my  eyes  from  hers.  "  Ten  pounds !  "  I  said,  in  my  deep- 
est voice,  on  purpose  to   have   it  out  in  comfort,  when  she 


LORNA   KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  143 

should  be  frightened :  "  what  can  you  want  with  ten  pounds, 
child?  " 

"  That  is  my  concern, "  said  Lorna,  plucking  up  her  spirit 
at  this :  "  when  a  lady  asks  for  a  loan,  no  gentleman  pries 
into  the  cause  of  her  asking  it." 

"That  may  be,  as  may  be,"  I  answered  in  a  judicial  manner: 
"ten  pounds,  or  twenty,  you  shall  have.  But  I  must  know  the 
purport." 

'•'  Then  that  you  never  shall  know,  John.  I  am  very  sorry 
for  asking  you.  It  is  not  of  the  smallest  consequence.  Oh 
dear,  no!  "     Herewith  she  was  running  away. 

''Oh  dear,  yes!"  I  replied;  "it  is  of  very  great  conse- 
quence; and  I  understand  the  whole  of  it.  You  want  to  give 
that  stupid  Annie,  who  has  lost  you  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds,  and  who  is  going  to  be  married  before  us,  dear  —  God 
only  can  tell  why,  being  my  younger  sister  —  you  want  to  give 
her  a  wedding  present.  And  you  shall  do  it,  darling ;  because 
it  is  so  good  of  you.  Don't  you  know  your  title,  love?  How 
humble  you  are  with  us  humble  folk.  You  are  Lady  Lorna 
something,  so  far  as  I  can  make  out  yet :  and  you  ought  not 
even  to  speak  to  us.     You  will  go  away,  and  disdain  us." 

"  If  you  please,  talk  not  like  that,  John.     I  will  have  noth 
ing  to  do  with  it,  if  it  comes  between  you  and  me,  John." 

"You  cannot  help  yourself,"  said  I.  And  then  she  vowea 
that  she  could  and  would.  And  rank  and  birth  were  banished 
from  between  our  lips  in  no  time. 

"What  can  I  get  her  good  enough?  I  am  sure  I  do  not 
know,"  she  asked:  "she  has  been  so  kind  and  good  to  me,  and 
she  is  such  a  darling.  How  I  shall  miss  her,  to  be  sure !  By- 
the-by,  you  seem  to  think,  John,  that  I  shall  be  rich  some 
day." 

"Of  course  you  will.  As  rich  as  the  French  King  who 
keeps  ours.  Would  the  Lord  Chancellor  trouble  himself  about 
you,  if  you  were  poor?  " 

"Then  if  I  am  rich,  perhaps  you  would  lend  me  twenty 
pounds,  dear  John.  Ten  pounds  would  be  very  mean  for  a 
wealthy  person  to  give  her," 

To  this  I  agreed,  upon  condition  that  I  should  make  the 
purchase  myself,  Avhatever  it  might  be.  For  nothing  could 
be  easier  than  to  cheat  Lorna  about  the  cost,  until  time  should 
come  for  her  paying  me.  And  this  was  better  than  to  cheat 
her  for  the  benefit  of  our  family.  For  this  end,  and  for  many 
otliers,  I  set  off  to  Dulverton,  bearing  more  commissions, 
more  messages,  and  more  questions,  than  a  man  of  thrice  my 


144  LORN  A   DOONE. 

memory  might  carry  so  far  as  the  corner  where  the  saw-pit  is. 
And  to  make  things  worse,  one  girl,  or  other,  would  keep  on 
running  up  to  me,  or  even  after  me  (when  started),  with 
something  or  other  she  had  just  thought  of,  which  she  could 
not  possibly  do  without,  and  which  I  must  be  sure  to  remem- 
ber, as  the  most  important  of  the  whole. 

To  my  dear  mother,  who  had  partly  outlived  the  exceeding 
value  of  trifles,  the  most  important  matter  seemed  to  ensure 
Uncle  Reuben's  countenance  and  presence  at  the  marriage. 
And  if  I  succeeded  in  this,  I  might  well  forget  all  the  maid- 
ens' trumpery.  This  she  would  have  been  wiser  to  tell  me 
when  they  were  out  of  hearing;  for  I  left  her  to  fight  her  own 
battle  with  them ;  and  laughing  at  her  predicament,  promised 
to  do  the  best  I  could  for  all,  so  far  as  my  wits  would  go. 

Uncle  Reuben  was  not  at  home;  but  Ruth,  who  received 
me  very  kindly,  although  without  any  expressions  of  joy,  was 
sure  of  his  return  in  the  afternoon,  and  persuaded  me  to  wait 
for  him.  And  by  the  time  that  I  had  finished  all  I  could 
recollect  of  my  orders,  even  with  paper  to  helj)  me,  the  old 
gentleman  rode  into  the  yard,  and  was  more  surprised  than 
pleased  to  see  me.  But  if  he  was  surprised,  I  was  more  than 
that  —  I  was  utterly  astonished  at  the  change  in  his  appear- 
ance since  the  last  time  I  had  seen  him.  From  a  hale,  and 
rather  heavy  man,  gray-haired,  but  plump,  and  ruddy,  he  was 
altered  to  a  shrunken,  wizened,  trembling,  and  almost  decrepit 
figure.  Instead  of  curly  and  comely  locks,  grizzled  indeed, 
but  plentiful,  he  had  only  a  few  lank  white  hairs  scattered 
and  flattened  upon  his  forehead.  But  the  greatest  change  of 
all  was  in  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  which  had  been  so  keen, 
and  restless,  and  bright,  and  a  little  sarcastic.  Bright  indeed 
they  still  were,  but  with  a  slow  unhealthy  lustre ;  their  keen- 
ness was  turned  to  perpetual  outlook,  their  restlessness  to 
a  haggard  want.  As  for  the  humor  which  once  gleamed  there 
(which  people  who  fear  it  call  sarcasm),  it  had  been  suc- 
ceeded by  stares  of  terror,  and  then  mistrust,  and  shrinking. 
There  was  none  of  the  interest  in  mankind,  which  is  needful 
even  for  satire. 

"Now  what  can  this  be?"  thought  I  to  myself:  "has  the 
old  man  lost  all  his  property,  or  taken  too  much  to  strong 
waters?" 

"Come  inside,  John  Ridd,"  he  said:  "I  will  have  a  talk 
with  you.  It  is  cold  out  here:  and  it  is  too  light.  Come 
inside,  John  Ridd,  boy." 

I  followed  him  into  a  little  dark  room,  quite  different  from 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  145 

Ruth  Huckaback's.  It  was  closed  from  the  shop  by  an  old 
division  of  boarding,  hung  with  tanned  canvas ;  and  the  smell 
was  very  close  and  faint.  Here  there  was  a  ledger-desk,  and 
a  couple  of  chairs,  and  a  long-legged  stool. 

"Take  the  stool,"  said  Uncle  Reuben,  showing  me  in  very 
quietly,  "it  is  fitter  for  your  height,  John.  Wait  a  moment; 
there  is  no  hurry." 

Then  he  slipped  out  by  another  door,  and  closing  it  quickly 
after  him,  told  the  foreman,  and  waiting-men,  that  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day  was  done.  They  had  better  all  go  home  at 
once;  and  he  would  see  to  the  fastenings.  Of  course  they 
were  only  too  glad  to  go ;  but  I  wondered  at  his  sending  them, 
with  at  least  two  hours  of  daylight  left. 

However,  that  was  no  business  of  mine;  and  I  waited,  and 
pondered  whether  fair  Ruth  ever  came  into  this  dirty  room; 
and  if  so,  how  she  kept  her  hands  from  it.  For  Annie  would 
have  had  it  upside  down  in  about  two  minutes,  and  scrubbed, 
and  brushed,  and  dusted,  until  it  looked  quite  another  place; 
and  yet  all  this  done  without  scolding  and  crossness ;  which, 
are  the  curse  of  clean  women,  and  ten  times  worse  than  the 
dustiest  dust. 

Uncle  Ben  came  reeling  in,  not  from  any  power  of  liquor, 
but  because  he  was  stiff  from  horse-back,  and  weak  from  work 
and  worry. 

"Let  me  be,  John,  let  me  be,"  he  said,  as  I  went  to  help 
him:  "this  is  an  unkid  dreary  place;  but  many  a  hundred  of 
good  gold  Carolus  has  been  turned  in  this  place,  John." 

"Not  a  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  I  answered,  in  my  loud  and 
cheerful  manner ;  "  and  many  another  hundred,  sir ;  and  may 
you  long  enjoy  them !  " 

"My  boy,  do  you  wish  me  to  die?"  he  asked,  coming  up 
close  to  my  stool,  and  regarding  me  with  a  shrewd,  though 
blear-eyed  gaze :  "many  do.     Do  you,  John?" 

"Come,"  said  I,  "don't  ask  such  nonsense.  You  know 
better  than  that.  Uncle  Ben.     Or  else,   I  am  sorry  for  you. 

I  want  you  to  live  as  long  as  possible,  for  the  sake  of " 

Here  1  stopped. 


II 


For  the  sake  of  what,  John?  I  know  it  is  not  for  my  own 
sake.     For  tlie  sake  of  what,  my  boy?" 

"For  the  sake  of  Ruth,"  I  answered;  "if  you  must  have  all 
the  truth.     Who  is  to  mind  her  when  you  are  gone?" 

"But  if  you  knew  that  I  had  gold,  or  a  manner  of  getting 
gold,  far  more  tlian  ever  the  sailors  got  out  of  the  Spanisli 
gaHeons,  far  more  than  ever  was  heard  of;  and  the  secret  was 

VOL.  II. — 10 


146  LORNA  BOONE. 

to  be  yours,  John;  yours  after  me,  and  no  other  soul's;  then 
you  woukl  wish  me  dead,  John."  Here  he  eyed  me,  as  if  a 
speck  of  dust  in  my  eyes  shoukl  not  escape  him. 

"You  are  wrong,  Uncle  Ben;  altogether  wrong.  For  all 
the  gold  ever  heard  or  dreamed  of,  not  a  wish  would  cross  my 
heart  to  rob  you  of  one  day  of  life." 

At  last  he  moved  his  eyes  from  mine;  but  without  any 
word,  or  sign,  to  show  whether  he  believed  or  disbelieved. 
Then  he  went  to  a  chair,  and  sat  with  his  chin  upon  the 
ledger-desk ;  as  if  the  effort  of  probing  me  had  been  too  much 
for  his  weary  brain.  "Dreamed  of!  All  the  gold  ever 
dreamed  of !  As  if  it  were  but  a  dream!"  he  muttered:  and 
then  he  closed  his  eyes,  to  think. 

"  Good  Uncle  lleuben, "  I  said  to  him,  "  you  have  been  a 
long  way  to-day,  sir.  Let  me  go  and  get  you  a  glass  of  good 
wine.     Cousin  Kuth  knows  where  to  find  it." 

"How  do  you  know  how  far  I  have  been?"  he  asked,  with 
a  vicious  look  at  me.  "And  Cousin  Euth!  You  are  very  pat 
with  my  grand-daughter's  name,  young  man!  " 

"It  would  be  hard  upon  me,  sir,  not  to  know  my  own 
cousin's  name." 

"Very  well.  Let  that  go  by.  You  have  behaved  very 
badly  to  Euth.     She  loves  you;  and  you  love  her  not." 

At  this  I  was  so  wholly  amazed  —  not  at  the  thing  itself  I 
mean,  but  at  his  knowledge  of  it  —  that  I  could  not  say  a 
single  word;  but  looked,  no  doubt,  very  foolish. 

"You  may  well  be  ashamed,  young  man,"  he  cried,  with 
some  triumph  over  me :  "you  are  the  biggest  of  all  fools,  as 
well  as  a  conceited  coxcomb.  What  can  you  want  more  than 
Ruth?  She  is  a  little  damsel  truly:  but  liner  men  than  you, 
John  Eidd,  with  all  your  boasted  strength  and  wrestling, 
have  wedded  smaller  maidens.  And  as  for  quality,  and 
value, —  bots!  one  inch  of  Euth  is  worth  all  your  seven  feet 
put  together." 

Now  I  am  not  seven  feet  high;  nor  ever  was  six  feet  eight 
inches,  in  my  very  prime  of  life;  and  nothing  vexes  me  so 
much  as  to  make  me  out  a  giant,  and  above  human  sympathy, 
and  human  scale  of  weakness.  It  cost  me  hard  to  hold  my 
tongue;  which  luckily  is  not  in  proportion  to  my  stature. 
And  only  for  Euth's  sake  I  held  it.  But  Uncle  Ben  (being 
old  and  worn)  was  vexed  by  not  having  any  answer,  almost 
as  much  as  a  woman  is. 

"You  want  me  to  go  on,"  he  continued,  with  a  look  of  spite 
at  me,  "about  my  poor  Euth's  love  for  you,    to  feed   your 


LOIiNA   KNOWS  HER   NURSE.  147 

cursed  vanity.  Because  a  set  of  asses  call  you  the  finest  man 
in  England;  there  is  no  maid  (I  suppose)  who  is  not  in  love 
with  you.  I  believe  you  are  as  deep  as  you  are  long,  John 
Kidd.     Shall  I  ever  get  to  the  bottom  of  your  character?  " 

This  was  a  little  too  much  for  me.  Any  insult  I  could  take 
(with  good  will)  from  a  white-haired  man,  and  one  who  was 
my  relative;  unless  it  touched  my  love  for  Lorna,  or  my 
conscious  modesty.  iSTow  both  of  these  were  touched  to  the 
quick  by  the  sentences  of  the  old  gentleman.  Therefore, 
without  a  Avord,  I  went;  only  making  a  boAV  to  him. 

But  women,  who  are  (beyond  all  doubt)  the  mothers  of  all 
mischief,  also  nurse  that  babe  to  sleep,  when  he  is  too  noisy. 
And  there  was  Ruth,  as  I  took  my  horse  (with  a  trunk  of 
frippery  on  him),  poor  little  lluth  was  at  the  bridle,  and 
rusting  all  the  knojis  of  our  town-going  harness  with  tears. 

"Good-bye,  dear,"  I  said,  as  she  beiit  her  head  away  from 
me;  " shall  I  put  you  up  on  the  saddle,  dear? " 

"Cousin  Ridd,  you  may  take  it  lightly,"  said  Ruth,  turn- 
ing full  upon  me,  "  and  very  likely  you  are  right,  according 
to  your  nature  "  —  this  was  the  only  cutting  thing  the  little 
soul  ever  said  to  me  —  "but  oli.  Cousin  Ridd,  you  have  no 
idea  of  the  pain  you  will  leave  behind  you." 

"  How  can  that  be  so,  Ruth,  when  I  am  as  good  as  ordered 
to  be  off  the  premises?  " 

"  In  the  first  place.  Cousin  Ridd,  grandfather  will  be  angry 
with  himself,  for  having  so  ill-used  you.  And  now  he  is  so 
weak  and  poorly,  that  he  is  always  repenting.  In  the  next 
place,  I  shall  scold  him  first,  until  he  admits  his  sorrow;  and 
when  he  has  admitted  it,  I  shall  scold  myself  for  scolding 
him.  And  tlien  he  will  come  round  again,  and  think  that  I 
was  hard  on  him;  and  end  perhaps  by  hating  you;  for  he  is 
like  a  woman  now,  John." 

That  last  little  touch  of  self-knowledge  in  Ruth,  whic.li  she 
delivered  with  a  gleam  of  some  secret  pleasantry,  made  me 
stop  and  look  closely  at  her :  but  she  pretended  not  to  know 
it.  "There  is  something  in  this  child,"  I  thought,  "very 
different  from  otlier  girls.  What  it  is  I  cannot  tell;  for  one 
very  seldom  gets  at  it." 

At  any  rate  the  upshot  was  that  the  good  liorse  went  back 
to  stable,  and  had  another  feed  of  corn;  while  my  wrath  sank 
within  me.  There  are  two  things,  according  to  my  experience 
(wliicli  may  not  hold  with  another  man),  fitted  beyond  any 
otliers  to  take  hot  tempers  out  of  us.  The  first  is  to  see  our 
favorite  creatures   feeding,  and  licking   up   tlieir    food,    and 


148  LOBNA   DOONE. 

happily  snuffling  over  it,  yet  sparing  time  to  be  grateful,  and 
showing  taste  and  perception;  the  other  is  to  go  gardening 
boldly,  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  without  any  misgiving 
about  it,  and  hoping  the  utmost  of  every  thing.  If  there  be 
a  third  anodyne,  approaching  these  two  in  power,  it  is  to 
smoke  good  tobacco  well,  and  watch  the  setting  of  the  moon ; 
and  if  this  should  only  be  over  the  sea,  the  result  is  irre- 
sistible. 

Master  Huckaback  showed  no  especial  signs  of  joy  at  my 
return;  but  received  me  with  a  little  grunt,  which  appeared 
to  me  to  mean,  "Ah,  I  thought  he  would  hardly  be  fool 
enough  to  go."  I  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  for  having  in 
some  way  offended  him ;  and  he  answered  that  I  did  well  to 
grieve  for  one  at  least  of  my  offences.  To  this  I  made  no 
reply,  as  behoves  a  man  dealing  with  cross  and  fractious 
people:  and  presently  he  became  better-tempered,  and  sent 
little  Ruth  for  a  bottle  of  wine.  She  gave  me  a  beautiful 
smile  of  thanks  for  my  forbearance,  as  she  passed;  and  I 
knew  by  her  manner  that  she  would  bring  the  best  bottle  in 
all  the  cellar. 

As  I  had  but  little  time  to  spare  (although  the  days  were 
long  and  light),  we  were  forced  to  take  our  wine  with  prompt- 
itude and  rapidity;  and  whether  this  loosened  my  uncle's 
tongue,  or  whether  he  meant  beforehand  to  speak,  is  now 
almost  uncertain.  But  true  it  is  that  he  brought  his  chair 
very  near  to  mine,  after  three  or  four  glasses,  and  sent  Ruth 
away  upon  some  errand  which  seemed  of  small  importance. 
At  this  I  was  vexed;  for  the  room  always  looked  so  different 
without  her. 

"Come,  Jack,"  he  said,  "here's  your  health,  young  fellow, 
and  a  good  and  obedient  wife  to  you.  Not  that  your  wife  will 
ever  obey  you,  though;  you  are  much  too  easy-tempered. 
Even  a  bitter  and  stormy  woman  might  live  in  peace  with  you, 
Jack.  But  never  you  give  her  the  chance  to  try.  Marry 
some  sweet  little  thing,  if  you  can.  If  not,  don't  marry  any. 
Ah,  we  have  the  maid  to  suit  you,  my  lad,  in  this  old  town 
of  Dulverton." 

"Have  you  so,  sir?  but  perhaps  the  maid  might  have  no 
desire  to  suit  me." 

"  That  you  may  take  my  word  she  has.  The  color  of  this 
wine  will  prove  it.  The  sly  little  hussy  has  been  to  the  cob- 
webbed  arch  of  the  cellar,  where  she  has  no  right  to  go,  for 
any  one  under  a  magistrate.  However,  I  am  glad  to  see  it; 
and  we  will  not  spare  it,  John.     After  my  time,  somebody, 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER   NURSE.  149 

■whoever  marries  little  Ruth,  will  find  some  rare  wine  there,  I 
trow,  and  perhaps  not  know  the  difference." 

Thinking  of  this  the  old  man  sighed,  and  expected  me  to 
sigh  after  him.  But  a  sigh  is  not  (like  a  yawn)  infectious; 
and  we  are  all  more  prone  to  be  sent  to  sleep,  than  to  sorrow, 
by  one  another.  Not  but  what  a  sigh  sometimes  may  make 
us  think  of  sighing. 

"Well,  sir,"  cried  I,  in  my  sprightliest  manner,  which 
rouses  up  most  people,  "  here's  to  your  health  and  dear  little 
Ruth's;  and  may  you  live  to  knock  off  the  cobwebs  from 
every  bottle  in  under  the  arch!  Uncle  Reuben,  your  life  and 
health,  sir!" 

With  that,  I  took  my  glass  thoughtfully,  for  it  was  won- 
drous good;  and  Uncle  Ben  was  pleased  to  see  me  dwelling 
pleasantly  on  the  subject,  with  parenthesis,  and  self-commune, 
and  oral  judgment  unpronounced,  though  smacking  of  fine 
decision.  "Curia  vult  advisari,"  as  the  lawyers  say;  which 
means,  "Let  us  have  another  glass,  and  then  we  can  think 
about  it." 

"Come  now,  John,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  laying  his  wrinkled 
hand  on  my  knee,  when  he  saw  that  none  could  heed  us,  "  I 
know  that  you  have  a  sneaking  fondness  for  my  grandchild 
Ruth.  Don't  interrupt  me  now;  you  have;  and  to  deny  it 
will  only  provoke  me." 

"I  do  like  Ruth,  sir,"  I  said  boldly,  for  fear  of  misunder- 
standing; "but  I  do  not  love  her." 

"Very  well;  that  makes  no  difference.  Liking  may  very 
soon  be  loving  (as  some  people  call  it),  when  the  maid  has 
money  to  help  her.'^ 

"  But  if  there  be,  as  there  is  in  my  case " 

"  Once  for  all,  John,  not  a  word.  I  do  not  attempt  to  lead 
you  into  any  engagement  with  little  Ruth;  neither  will  I 
blame  you  (though  I  may  be  disappointed)  if  no  such  engage- 
ment should  ever  be.  But  whether  you  will  have  my  grand- 
child, or  whether  you  will  not  —  and  such  a  chance  is  rarely 
offered  to  a  fellow  of  your  standing "  —  Uncle  Ben  despised 
all  farmers  —  "  in  any  case  I  have  at  last  resolved  to  let  you 
know  my  secret;  and  for  two  good  reasons.  The  first  is,  that 
it  wears  me  out  to  dwell  upon  it,  all  alone :  and  tlie  second 
is,  that  I  can  trust  you  to  fulfil  a  })romise.  Moreover  you 
an;  my  next  of  kin,  except  among  the  womenkind;  and  you 
are  just  the  man  I  want  to  help  me  in  my  enterprise." 

"And  I  will  liclp  you,  sir,"  T  answered,  fearing  some  con- 
spiracjy,  "in  anytliing  that  is  true,  and  loyal,  and  according  to 
the  laws  of  the  reabn." 


150  LORNA   BOONE. 

"  Ha,  ha ! "  cried  the  okl  man,  laughing  until  his  eyes  ran 
over,  and  spreading  out  his  skinny  hands  upon  his  shining 
breeches,  " thou  hast  gone  the  same  fool's  track  as  the  rest; 
even  as  spy  Stickles  went,  and  all  his  precious  troopers.  Land- 
ing of  arms  at  Glenthorne  and  Lynmouth,  waggons  escorted 
across  the  moor,  sounds  of  metal,  and  booming  noises !  Ah, 
but  we  managed  it  cleverly,  to  cheat  even  those  so  near  to  us. 
Disaffection  at  Taunton,  signs  of  insurrection  at  Dulverton, 
revolutionary  tanner  at  Dunster !  We  set  it  all  abroad,  right 
well.  And  not  even  you  to  suspect  our  work;  though  we 
thought  at  one  time  that  you  watched  us.  Now  who,  do  you 
suppose,  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  Exmoor  insurgency,  all 
this  western  rebellion  —  not  that  I  say  there  is  none,  mind  — 
but  who  is  at  the  bottom  of  it?  " 

"Either  Mother  Melldrvim,"  said  I,  being  now  a  little  angry, 
"or  else  old  Nick  himself." 

"  Nay,  old  Uncle  Keuben !  "  Saying  this.  Master  Huckaback 
cast  back  his  coat,  and  stood  up,  and  made  the  most  of  himself. 

"  Well !  "  cried  I,  being  now  quite  come  to  the  limits  of  my 
intellect,  "  then  after  all  Captain  Stickles  was  right  in  calling 
you  a  rebel,  sir !  " 

"  Of  course  he  was :  could  so  keen  a  man  be  wrong,  about  an 
old  fool  like  me?  But  come,  and  see  our  rebellion,  John.  I 
will  trust  you  now  with  every  thing.  I  will  take  no  oath  from 
you ;  only  your  word  to  keep  silence ;  and  most  of  all  from 
your  mother." 

"  I  will  give  you  my  word, "  I  said,  although  liking  not  such 
pledges;  which  make  a  man  think  before  he  speaks  in  ordinary 
company,  against  his  usual  practice.  However,  I  was  now  so 
curious,  that  I  thought  of  nothing  else;  and  scarcely  could 
believe  at  all  that  Uncle  Ben  was  quite  right  in  his  head. 

"  Take  another  glass  of  wine,  my  son, "  he  cried,  with  a  cheer- 
ful countenance,  which  made  him  look  more  than  ten  years 
younger;  "you  shall  come  into  partnership  with  me:  your 
strength  will  save  us  two  horses,  and  we  always  fear  the  horse 
work.  Come  and  see  our  rebellion,  my  boy;  you  are  made 
from  to-night." 

"But  where  am  I  to  come  and  see  it?  Where  am  I  to  find 
it,  sir?" 

"Meet  me,"  he  answered,  yet  closing  his  hands,  and  wrink- 
ling with  doubt  his  forehead;  "come  alone,  of  course;  and 
meet  me  at  the  Wizard's  Slough,  at  ten  to-morrow  morning." 


MASTER  HUCKABACK' S  SECRET.  151 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MASTER   huckaback's    SECRET. 

Knowing  Master  Huckaback  to  be  a  man  of  bis  word,  as 
well  as  one  who  would  have  others  so,  I  was  careful  to  be  in 
good  time  the  next  morning,  by  the  side  of  the  Wizard's 
Slough.  I  am  free  to  admit  that  the  name  of  the  place  bore  a 
feeling  of  uneasiness,  and  a  love  of  distance,  in  some  measure 
to  my  heart.  But  I  did  my  best  not  to  think  of  this :  only  I 
thought  it  a  wise  precaution,  and  due  for  the  sake  of  my 
mother  and  Lorna,  to  load  my  gun  with  a  dozen  slugs  made 
from  the  lead  of  the  old  church-porch,  laid  by,  long  since, 
against  witchcraft. 

I  am  well  aware  that  some  people  now  begin  to  doubt  about 
witchcraft;  or  at  any  rate  feign  to  do  so,  being  desirous  to  dis- 
believe whatever  they  are  afraid  of.  This  spirit  is  growing 
too  common  among  us,  and  will  end  (unless  we  put  a  stop  to 
it)  in  the  destruction  of  all  religion.  And  as  regards  witch- 
craft, a  man  is  bound  either  to  believe  in  it,  or  to  disbelieve 
the  Bible.  For  even  in  the  New  Testament,  discarding  many 
things  of  the  Old,  such  as  sacrifices,  and  sabbath,  and  fasting, 
and  other  miseries,  witchcraft  is  clearly  spoke  of  as  a  thing 
that  must  continue ;  that  the  Evil  One  be  not  utterly  robbed 
of  his  vested  interests.  Hence  let  no  one  tell  me  that  witch- 
craft is  done  away  with ;  for  I  will  meet  him  with  St.  Paul, 
than  whom  no  more  religious  man,  and  few  less  superstitious, 
can  be  found  in  all  the  Bible. 

Eeeling  these  things  more  in  those  days  than  I  feel  them 
now,  I  fetched  a  goodisli  compass  round,  by  the  way  of  the 
Cloven  rocks,  rather  than  cross  Black  Barrow  Down,  in  a  reck- 
less and  unholy  manner.  There  were  several  spots,  upon  that 
Down,  cursed,  and  smitten,  and  blasted,  as  if  thunderbolts  had 
fallen  there,  and  Satan  sat  to  keep  tliem  warm.  At  any  rate 
it  was  good  (as  every  one  acknowledged)  not  to  wander  there 
too  mucli :  even  with  a  doctor  of  divinity  upon  one  arm,  and 
of  medicine  upon  tlie  otlier. 

Therefore  1,  being  all  alone,  and  on  foot  (as  seemed  the 
wisest),  preferred  a  course  of  roundabout;  and  starting  about 
eight  o'clf)ck,  witliout  mentioning  my  business,  arrived  at  the 
mcjutli  of  tlie  deep  d(!SC(!nt,  such  as  Jolm  Fry  described  it. 
Now  this  (though  I  have  not  spoken  of  it)  was  not  my  first 


162  LORNA  BOONE. 

time  of  being  there.  For,  although  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  spy  upon  Uncle  Reuben,  as  John  Fry  had  done,  yet  I  thought 
it  no  ill  manners,  after  he  had  left  our  house,  to  have  a  look 
at  the  famous  place,  where  the  malefactor  came  to  life,  at  least 
in  John's  opinion.  At  that  time,  however,  I  saw  nothing, 
except  the  great  ugly  black  morass,  with  the  grisly  reeds  around 
it ;  and  I  did  not  care  to  go  very  near  it,  much  less  to  pry  on 
the  further  side. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  I  was  bent  to  get  at  the  very  bot- 
tom of  this  mystery  (if  there  were  any),  having  less  fear  of 
witch  or  wizard,  with  a  man  of  Uncle  Reuben's  wealth  to  take 
my  part,  and  see  me  throvigh.  So  I  rattled  the  ramrod  down 
my  gun,  just  to  know  if  the  charge  were  right,  after  so  much 
walking;  and  finding  it  full  six  inches  deep,  as  I  like  to  have 
it,  went  boldly  down  the  steep  gorge  of  rock,  with  a  firm  resolve 
to  shoot  any  witch,  unless  it  were  good  Mother  Melldrum. 
Nevertheless,  to  my  surprise,  all  was  quiet,  and  fair  to  look 
at,  in  the  decline  of  the  narrow  way;  with  great  stalked  ferns 
coming  forth  like  trees,  yet  hanging  like  cobwebs  over  one. 
And  along  one  side,  a  little  spring  was  getting  rid  of  its  waters. 
Any  man  might  stop  and  think;  or  he  might  go  on  and  think; 
and  in  either  case,  there  was  none  to  say  that  he  was  making 
a  fool  of  himself. 

When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  this  ravine,  and  over  against  the 
great  black  slough,  there  was  no  sign  of  Master  Huckaback, 
nor  of  any  other  living  man,  except  myself,  in  the  silence. 
Therefore  I  sat  in  a  niche  of  rock,  gazing  at  the  slough,  and 
pondering  the  old  tradition  about  it. 

They  say  that,  in  the  ancient  times,  a  mighty  necromancer 
lived  in  the  wilderness  of  Exmoor.  Here,  by  sj^ell  and  incan- 
tation, he  built  himself  a  strong  high  palace,  eight-sided  like 
a  spider's  web,  and  standing  on  a  central  steep;  so  that  neither 
man  nor  beast  could  cross  the  moor  without  his  knowledge. 
If  he  wished  to  rob  and  slay  a  traveller,  or  to  have  wild  ox, 
or  stag  for  food,  he  had  nothing  more  to  do  than  sit  at  one  of 
his  eight  windows,  and  point  his  unholy  book  at  him.  Any 
moving  creature,  at  which  that  book  was  pointed,  must  obey 
the  call,  and  come  from  whatever  distance,  if  sighted  once  by 
the  wizard. 

This  was  a  bad  condition  of  things,  and  all  the  country 
groaned  under  it ;  and  Exmoor  (although  the  most  honest  place 
that  a  man  could  wish  to  live  in)  was  beginning  to  get  a  bad 
reputation,  and  all  through  that  vile  wizard.  No  man  durst 
even  go  to  steal  a  sheep,  or  a  pony,  or  so  much  as  a  deer  foi 


MASTER  HUCKABACK'S  SECRET.  163 

dinner,  lest  he  should  be  brought  to  book  by  a  far  bigger 
rogiie  than  he  was.  And  this  went  on  for  many  years;  though 
they  prayed  to  God  to  abate  it.  But  at  last,  when  the  wizard 
was  getting  fat,  and  haughty  upon  his  high  stomach,  a  mighty 
deliverance  came  to  Exmoor,  and  a  warning,  and  a  memory. 
For  one  day  the  sorcerer  gazed  from  his  window  facing  the 
south-east  of  the  compass ;  and  he  yawned,  having  killed  so 
many  men,  that  now  he  was  weary  of  it. 

'"Ifackins,"  he  cried,  or  some  such  oath,  both  profane  and 
uncomely,  "I  see  a  man  on  the  verge  of  the  sky-line,  going 
along  laboriously.  A  pilgrim,  I  trow,  or  some  such  fool,  with 
the  nails  of  his  boots  inside  them.  Too  thin  to  be  worth  eat- 
ing :  but  I  will  have  him  for  the  fun  of  the  thing :  and  most 
of  those  saints  have  got  money." 

With  these  words,  he  stretched  forth  his  legs  on  a  stool,  and 
pointed  the  book  of  heathenish  spells,  back  upwards,  at  the 
pilgrim.  Now  this  good  pilgrim  was  plodding  along,  soberly 
and  religiously,  with  a  pound  of  flints  in  either  boot,  and  not 
an  ounce  of  meat  inside  him.  He  felt  the  spell  of  the  wicked 
book,  but  only  as  a  horse  might  feel  a  "gee-wug!"  addressed 
to  him.  It  was  in  the  power  of  this  good  man,  either  to  go 
on,  or  turn  aside,  and  see  out  the  wizard's  meaning.  And  for 
a  moment,  he  halted  and  stood,  like  one  in  two  minds  about  a 
thing.  Then  the  wizard  clapped  one  cover  to,  in  a  jocular  and 
insulting  manner;  and  the  sound  of  it  came  to  the  pilgrim's 
ear,  about  five  miles  in  the  distance,  like  a  great  gun  fired  at 
him. 

"By  our  Lady,"  he  cried,  "I  must  see  to  this;  although  my 
poor  feet  have  no  skin  below  them.  I  will  teach  this  heathen 
miscreant,  how  to  scoff  at  Glastonbury." 

Thereupon  he  turned  his  course,  and  ploughed  along  through 
the  moors  and  bogs,  towards  the  eight-sided  palace.  The 
wizard  sat  on  his  chair  of  comfort;  and  with  tlie  rankest  con-' 
tempt  observed  the  holy  man  ploughing  towards  him.  "  He 
has  something  good  in  his  wallet,  I  trow,"  said  the  black  thief 
to  himself;  "these  fellows  get  always  the  pick  of  the  wine, 
and  the  best  of  a  woman's  money."  Then  he  cried,  "  Come  in, 
come  in,  good  sir,"  as  he  always  did  to  every  one. 

"Bad  sir,  I  will  not  come  in,"  said  the  pilgrim;  "neither 
shall  you  come  out  again.  Here  are  the  bones  of  all  you  have 
slain;  and  here  shall  your  own  bones  be." 

"  Hurry  me  not,"  cried  the  sorcerer;  "that  is  a  thing  to  think 
about.     How  many  miles  hast  thou  travelled  this  day?" 

But  tlie  pilgrim  was  too  wide  awake;  for  if  he  had  spoken 


154  LOENA   DOONE. 

of  any  number  bearing  no  cross  upon  it,  tlie  necromancer  would 
have  had  him,  like  a  ball  at  bando-play.  Therefore  he  an- 
swered, as  truly  as  need  be,  "By  the  grace  of  our  Lady,  nine." 

Now  nine  is  the  Grossest  of  all  cross  numbers,  and  full  to  the 
lip  of  all  crotchets. '  So  the  wizard  staggered  back,  and  thought, 
and  inquired  again  witli  bravery,  "  Where  can  you  iind  a  man 
and  wife,  one  going  up-hill,  and  one  going  down,  and  not  a 
word  spoken  between  them?" 

"  In  a  cucumber  plant, "  said  the  modest  saint ;  blushing  even 
to  think  of  it,  and  tlie  wizard  knew  he  was  done  for. 

"You  have  tried  me  with  ungodly  questions,"  continued  the 
honest  pilgrim,  with  one  hand  still  over  his  eyes,  as  he  thought 
of  the  feminine  cucumber;  "and  now  I  will  ask  you  a  pure 
one :  To  whom  of  mankind  have  you  ever  done  good,  since  God 
saw  fit  to  make  you?" 

The  wizard  thought,  but  could  quote  no  one :  and  he  looked 
at  the  saint,  and  the  saint  at  him ;  and  both  their  hearts  were 
trembling.  "Can  you  tell  of  only  one?"  asked  the  saint, 
pointing  a  piece  of  the  true  cross  at  him,  hoping  he  might  cling 
to  it:  "even  a  little  child  will  do:  try  to  think  of  some  one." 

The  earth  was  rocking  beneath  tlieir  feet,  and  the  palace 
windows  darkened  on  them,  with  a  tint  of  blood :  for  now  the 
saint  was  come  inside,  hoping  to  save  the  wizard. 

"If  I  must  tell  the  pure  truth,"  said  the  wizard,  looking  up 
at  the  arches  of  his  windows,  "  I  can  tell  of  only  one,  to  whom 
I  have  ever  done  good." 

"  One  will  do ;  one  is  quite  enough :  be  quick  before  the 
ground  opens.  The  name  of  one  —  and  this  cross  will  save 
you.     Lay  your  thumb  on  the  end  of  it." 

"  Nay,  that  I  cannot  do,  great  saint.  The  devil  have  mercy 
upon  me !  " 

All  this  while  the  palace  was  sinking,  and  blackness  coming 
over  them. 

"Thou  hast  all  but  done  for  thyself,"  said  the  saint,  with  a 
glory  burning  round  his  head;  "by  that  last  invocation.  Yet 
give  us  the  name  of  the  one,  my  friend ;  if  one  there  be,  it  will 
save  thee,  with  the  cross  upon  thy  breast.  All  is  crashing 
round  us;  dear  brother,  who  is  that  one?" 

"  My  own  self ;  "  cried  the  wretched  wizard. 

"Then  there  is  no  help  for  thee."  And  with  that,  the  honest 
saint  went  upward,  and  the  wizard,  and  all  his  palace,  and 
even  the  crag  that  bore  it,  sank  to  the  bowels  of  the  earth; 
and  over  them  was  nothing  left,  except  a  black  bog  fringed 
with  reed  of  the  tint  of  the  wizard's  whiskers.     The  saint, 


MASTER   HUCKABACK'S   SECRET.  156 

however,  was  all  riglit,  after  sleeping  off  the  excitement,  and 
he  founded  a  chapel  some  three  miles  westward;  and  there  he 
lies  with  liis  holy  relic;  and  thither  in  after  ages  came  (as  we 
all  come  home  at  last)  both  my  Lorna's  Aunt  Sabina,  and  her 
guardian,  Sir  Ensor  Doone, 

While  yet  I  dwelled  upon  this  strange  story,  wondering  if  it 
all  were  true,  and  why  such  things  do  not  happen  now,  a  man 
on  horseback  appeared  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  risen  out  of 
the  earth,  on  the  other  side  of  the  great  black  slough.  At  first 
I  was  a  little  scared,  my  mind  being  in  the  tune  for  wonders; 
but  presently  the  white  hair,  whiter  from  the  blackness  of  the 
bog  between  us,  showed  me  that  it  was  Uncle  Reuben  come  to 
look  for  me,  that  way.  Then  I  left  my  chair  of  rock,  and 
waved  my  hat,  and  shouted  to  him,  and  the  sound  of  my  voice 
among  the  crags  and  lonely  corners  frightened  me. 

Old  ]\laster  Huckaback  made  no  answer,  but  (so  far  as  I  could 
guess)  beckoned  me  to  come  to  him.  There  was  just  room 
between  the  fringe  of  reed  and  the  belt  of  rock  around  it,  for  a 
man  going  very  carefully  to  escape  that  horrible  pit-hole.  And 
so  I  went  round  to  the  other  side,  and  there  found  open  space 
enough,  with  stunted  bushes,  and  starveling  trees,  and  strag- 
gling tufts  of  rushes. 

"  You  fool,  you  are  frightened,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  as  he  looked 
at  my  face  after  shaking  hands :  "  I  Avant  a  young  man  of  stead- 
fast courage,  as  well  as  of  strength  and  silence.  And  after 
wliat  I  heard  of  the  battle  at  Glen  Doone,  I  thought  I  might 
trust  you  for  courage." 

"So  you  may,"  said  I,  "wherever  I  see  mine  enemy;  but 
not  where  witch  and  wizard  be." 

"Tush,  great  fool!"  cried  Master  Huckaback;  "the  only 
witch,  or  wizard,  here  is  the  one  that  bewitcheth  all  men. 
Xow  fasten  up  my  horse,  John  Eidd,  and  not  too  near  the 
slough,  lad.  Ah,  we  have  chosen  our  entrance  wisely.  Two 
good  horsemen,  and  tlieir  horses,  coming  hither  to  spy  us  out, 
are  gone  mining  on  their  own  account  (and  their  last  account 
it  is)  down  this  good  wizard's  bog-hole." 

Witli  tliese  words,  Uncle  RculK'n  clutclied  the  mane  of  his 
horse,  and  came  down,  as  a  man  does  when  liis  legs  are  old; 
and  as  I  myself  begin  to  do,  at  this  time  of  writing.  I  offered 
aliand,  l)ut  he  was  vexed,  and  would  have  nouglit  to  do  witli  it. 

"Now  follow  me,  step  for  stej),"  he  said,  wh(^n  1  had  tetherinl 
his  liorse  to  a  tree;  "  tlie  ground  is  not  death  (like  tlie  wizard's 
hole),  but  many  parts  are  treacherous.  I  know  it  well  by  this 
,      time." 


166  LORN  A   BOONE. 

Without  any  more  ado,  he  led  me,  in  and  out  the  marshy 
places,  to  a  great  round  hole  or  shaft,  bratticed  up  with  timber. 
I  never  had  seen  the  like  before,  and  wondered  how  they  could 
want  a  well,  with  so  much  water  on  every  side.  Around  the 
mouth  were  a  few  little  heaps  of  stuff  unused  to  the  daylight; 
and  I  thought  at  once  of  the  tales  I  had  heard  concerning  mines 
in  Cornwall,  and  the  silver  cup  at  Combe-Martin,  sent  to  the 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

"  We  had  a  tree  across  it,  John,"  said  Uncle  Reuben,  smiling 
grimly  at  my  sudden  shrink  from  it:  "but  some  rogue  came 
spying  here,  just  as  one  of  our  men  went  up.  He  was  fright- 
ened half  out  of  his  life,  I  believe,  and  never  ventured  to 
come  again.  But  we  put  the  blame  of  that  upon  you.  And  I 
see  that  we  were  wrong,  John."  Here  he  looked  at  me  with 
keen  eyes,  though  weak. 

"You  were  altogether  wrong;"  I  answered.  "Am  I  mean 
enough  to  spy  upon  any  one  dwelling  with  us?  And  more  than 
that.  Uncle  lieuben,  it  was  mean  of  you  to  suppose  it." 

"  All  ideas  are  different, "  replied  the  old  man  to  my  heat, 
like  a  little  worn-out  rill  running  down  a  smithy;  "you  with 
your  strength,  and  youth,  and  all  that,  are  inclined  to  be 
romantic.  I  take  things  as  I  have  known  them,  going  on  for 
seventy  years.  Now  will  you  come  and  meet  the  wizard,  or 
does  your  courage  fail  you?" 

"My  courage  must  be  none,"  said  I,  "if  I  would  not  go 
where  you  go,  sir." 

He  said  no  more,  but  signed  to  me  to  lift  a  heavy  wooden 
corb,  with  an  iron  loop  across  it,  and  sunk  in  a  little  pit  of 
earth,  a  yard  or  so  from  the  mouth  of  the  shaft.  I  raised  it, 
and  by  his  direction  dropped  it  into  the  throat  of  the  shaft, 
where  it  hung  and  shook  from  a  great  cross-beam  laid  at  the 
level  of  the  earth.  A  very  stout  thick  rope  was  fastened  to 
the  handle  of  the  corb,  and  ran  across  a  pulley  hanging  from 
the  centre  of  the  beam,  and  thence  out  of  sight  in  the  nether 
places. 

"I  will  first  descend,"  he  said;  "your  weight  is  too  great  for 
safety.  When  the  bucket  comes  up  again,  follow  me,  if  your 
heart  is  good." 

Then  he  whistled  down,  with  a  quick  sharp  noise,  and  a 
whistle  from  below  replied:  and  he  clomb  into  the  vehicle, 
and  the  rope  ran  through  the  pulley,  and  Uncle  Ben  went 
merrily  down,  and  was  out  of  sight  before  I  had  time  to  think 
of  him. 

Now  being  left  on  the  bank  like  that,  and  in  full  sight  of  the 


MASTER  HUCKABACK'S   SECRET.  157 

goodly  heaven,  I  wrestled  hard  with  my  flesh  aud  blood,  about 
going  down  into  the  pit-hole.  And  but  for  the  pale  shame  of 
the  thing,  that  a  white-headed  man  should  adventure  so,  and 
green  youth  doubt  about  it,  never  could  I  have  made  up  my 
mind;  for  I  do  love  air  and  heaven.  However,  at  last  up  came 
the  bucket;  and,  with  a  short  sad  prayer,  I  went  into  whatever 
might  happen. 

My  teeth  would  chatter,  do  all  I  could;  but  the  strength  of 
my  arms  was  with  me ;  and  by  them  I  held  on  the  grimy  rope, 
and  so  eased  the  foot  of  the  corb,  which  threatened  to  go  away 
fathoms  under  me.  Of  course  I  should  still  have  been  safe 
enough,  being  like  an  egg  in  an  egg-cup,  too  big  to  care  for 
the  bottom;  still  I  wislied  that  all  should  be  done  in  good 
order,  without  excitement. 

The  scoopings  of  the  side  grew  black,  and  the  patch  of  sky 
above  more  blue,  as,  with  many  thoughts  of  Lorna,  a  long  way 
underground  I  sank.  Then  I  was  fetched  up  at  the  bottom, 
with  a  jerk  and  rattle ;  and  but  for  holding  by  the  rope  so, 
must  have  tumbled  over.  Two  great  torches  of  bale-resin 
showed  me  all  the  darkness,  one  being  held  by  Uncle  Ben  and 
the  other  by  a  short  square  man  with  a  face  which  seemed  well 
known  to  me. 

"  Hail  to  the  world  of  gold,  John  Ridd,"  said  Master  Hucka- 
back, smiling  in  the  old  dry  manner:  "bigger  coward  never 
came  down  the  shaft,  now  did  he,  Carfax?" 

"They  be  all  alike,"  said  the  short  square  man,  "fust  time 
as  they  doos  it." 

"May  I  go  to  heaven,"  I  cried,  "which  is  a  thing  quite  out 
of  sight "  —  for  I  always  have  a  vein  of  humor,  too  small  to  be 
followed  by  any  one  —  "  if  ever  again  of  my  own  accord  I  go 
so  far  away  from  it !  "  Uncle  Ben  grinned  less  at  this  than  at 
the  way  I  knocked  my  shin  in  getting  out  of  the  bucket;  and 
as  for  Master  Carfax,  he  would  not  even  deign  to  smile.  And 
he  seemed  to  look  upon  my  entrance  as  an  intevl()])ing. 

For  my  part,  I  had  nought  to  do,  after  rubbing  my  bruised 
leg,  except  to  look  about  me,  so  far  as  the  dulness  of  light 
would  help.  And  herein  I  seemed,  like  a  mouse  in  a  trap,  able 
no  more  than  to  run  to  and  fro,  and  knock  himself,  and  stare 
at  things.  For  here  was  a  little  channel  grooved  with  posts 
on  either  side  of  it,  and  ending  with  a  heap  of  darkness,  whence 
the  sight  came  back  again;  and  there  was  a  scoojjcd  place,  like 
a  funnel,  but  pouring  only  to  darkntiss.  So  I  waited  for  some- 
body to  speak  first,  not  seeing  my  way  to  any  thing. 

"You  seem  to  be  disa])])oint(!(l,  John,"  said  Uncle  Reuben, 


158  LOBNA  BOONE. 

looking  blue  by  the  light  of  the  flambeaux :  "  did  you  expect 
to  see  the  roof  of  gold,  and  the  sides  of  gold,  and  the  floor  of 
gold,  JohnEidd?" 

"Ha,  ha!"  cried  Master  Carfax:  "I  reckon  her  did;  no 
doubt  her  did." 

"You  are  wrong,"  I  replied:  "but  I  did  expect  to  see  some- 
thing better  than  dirt  and  darkness." 

"  Come  on  then,  my  lad ;  and  we  will  show  you  something 
better.  We  want  your  great  arm  on  here,  for  a  job  that  has 
beaten  the  whole  of  us." 

With  these  words.  Uncle  Ben  led  the  way  along  a  narrow 
passage,  roofed  with  rock,  and  floored  with  slate-colored  shale 
and  shingle,  and  winding  in  and  out,  until  we  stopped  at  a 
great  stone  block  or  boulder,  lying  across  the  floor,  and  as  large 
as  my  mother's  best  oaken  wardrobe.  Beside  it  were  several 
sledge-hammers,  some  battered,  and  some  with  broken  helves. 

"  Thou  great  villain!  "  cried  Uncle  Ben,  giving  the  boulder  a 
little  kick;  "I  believe  thy  time  has  come  at  last.  Now,  John, 
give  us  a  sample  of  the  things  they  tell  of  thee.  Take  the 
biggest  of  them  sledge-hammers  and  crack  this  rogue  in  two 
for  us.  We  have  tried  at  him  for  a  fortnight,  and  he  is  a  nut 
worth  cracking.  But  we  have  no  man  who  can  swing  that 
hammer,  though  all  in  the  mine  have  handled  it." 

"I  will  do  my  very  best,"  said  I,  pulling  ofE  my  coat  and 
waistcoat,  as  if  I  were  going  to  wrestle ;  "  but  I  fear  he  will 
prove  too  tough  for  me." 

"Ay,  that  her  wull,"  grunted  Master  Carfax;  "lack'th  a 
Carnishman,  and  a  beg  one  too,  not  a  little  charp  such  as  I  be. 
There  be  no  man  outside  Carnwall,  as  can  crack  that  boolder." 

"Bless  my  heart,"  I  answered;  "but  I  know  something  of 
you,  my  friend,  or  at  any  rate  of  your  family.  Well,  I  have 
beaten  most  of  your  Cornish  men,  though  not  my  place  to  talk 
of  it.  But  mind,  if  I  crack  this  rock  for  you,  I  must  have  some 
of  the  gold  inside  it." 

"  Dost  think  to  see  the  gold  come  tumbling  out,  like  the  ker- 
nel of  a  nut,  thou  zany?  "  asked  Uncle  Reuben  pettishly :  "  now 
wilt  thou  crack  it,  or  wilt  thou  not?  For  I  believe  thou  canst 
do  it,  though  only  a  lad  of  Somerset." 

Uncle  Reuben  showed,  by  saying  this,  and  by  a  glance  at 
Carfax,  that  he  was  proud  of  his  county,  and  would  be  disap- 
pointed for  it,  if  I  failed  to  crack  the  boulder.  So  I  begged 
him  to  stoop  his  torch  a  little,  that  I  might  examine  my  sub- 
ject. To  me  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  at  all  remarkable 
about  it,  except  that  it  sparkled  here  and  there,  when  the  flash 


"With    all   my    power,   descending,   delivered   the    ponderous 

ONSET."  —  V'ul.    II.    p.    159. 


MASTER   HUCKABACK'S   SECRET.  159 

of  the  flame  fell  upon  it.  A  great  obstinate,  oblong,  sullen 
stone :  how  could  it  be  worth  the  breaking,  except  for  making 
roads  with? 

Nevertheless  I  took  up  the  hammer,  and  swinging  it  far 
behind  my  head,  fetched  it  down,  with  all  my  power,  upon  the 
middle  of  the  rock.  The  roof  above  rang  mightily,  and  the 
echo  went  down  delven  galleries,  so  that  all  the  miners  flocked 
to  know  what  might  be  doing.  But  Master  Carfax  only  smiled, 
although  the  blow  shook  him  where  he  stood,  for  behold  the 
stone  was  still  unbroken,  and  as  firm  as  ever.  Then  I  smote 
it  again,  with  no  better  fortune,  and  Uncle  Ben  looked  vexed 
and  angry,  but  all  the  miners  grinned  with  triumph. 

"This  little  tool  is  too  light,"  I  cried;  "one  of  you  give  me 
a  piece  of  strong  cord." 

Then  I  took  two  more  of  the  weightiest  hammers,  and  lashed 
them  fast  to  the  back  of  mine,  not  so  as  to  strike,  but  to  burden 
the  fall.  Having  made  this  firm,  and  with  room  to  grasp  the 
handle  of  the  largest  one  only  —  for  the  helves  of  the  others 
were  shorter  —  I  smiled  at  Uncle  Ben,  and  whirled  the  mighty 
implement  round  my  head,  just  to  try  whether  I  could  manage 
it.  Upon  that,  the  miners  gave  a  cheer,  being  honest  men, 
and  desirous  of  seeing  fair  play  between  this  "shameless 
stone  "  (as  Dan  Homer  calls  it)  and  me  with  my  hammer  ham- 
mering. 

Then  I  swung  me  on  high,  to  the  swing  of  the  sledge,  as  a 
thresher  bends  back  to  the  rise  of  his  flail,  and  with  all  my 
power  descending  delivered  the  ponderous  onset.  Crashing 
and  crushed  the  great  stone  fell  over,  and  threads  of  sparkling 
gold  appeared  in  the  jagged  sides  of  the  breakage. 

"  How  now,  Simon  Carfax?  "  cried  Uncle  Ben  triumphantly; 
"wilt  thou  find  a  man  in  Cornwall  can  do  the  like  of  that?  " 

"  Ay,  and  more, "  he  answered :  "  however,  it  be  pretty  fair 
for  a  lad  of  these  outlandish  parts.  Get  your  rollers,  my  lads, 
and  lead  it  to  the  crushing  engine." 

I  was  glad  to  have  been  of  some  service  to  them:  for  it 
seems  that  this  great  boulder  had  been  too  large  to  be  drawn 
along  the  gallery,  and  too  hard  to  crack.  But  now  they  moved 
it  very  easily,  taking  piece  by  piece,  and  carefully  picking  up 
the  fragments. 

"Thou  hast  done  us  a  good  turn,  my  lad,"  said  Uncle  Keu- 
ben,  as  the  others  passed  out  of  sight  at  the  corner;  "and  now 
I  will  show  thee  the  bottom  of  a  very  wondrous  mystery.  But 
we  must  not  do  it  more  than  once,  for  the  time  of  day  is  the 
wrong  one." 


160  LORNA  BOONE. 

The  whole  affair  being  a  mystery  to  me,  and  far  beyond  my 
understanding,  I  followed  him  softly,  without  a  word,  yet 
thinking  very  heavily,  and  longing  to  be  above  ground  again. 
He  led  me  through  small  passages,  to  a  hollow  place  near  the 
descending-shaft,  where  I  saw  a  most  extraordinary  monster 
fitted  up.  In  form  it  was  like  a  great  coffee-mill,  such  as  I  had 
seen  in  London,  only  a  thousand  times  larger,  and  with  a  heavy 
windlass  to  work  it. 

"Put  in  a  barrow-load  of  the  smoulder,"  said  Uncle  Ben  to 
Carfax ;  "  and  let  them  work  the  crank,  for  John  to  understand 
a  thing  or  two." 

"  At  this  time  of  day !  "  cried  Simon  Carfax;  "  and  the  watch- 
ing as  has  been  o'  late ! " 

HoAvever,  he  did  it  without  more  remonstrance;  pouring 
into  the  scuttle  at  the  top  of  the  machine  about  a  basketful  of 
broken  rock ;  and  then  a  dozen  men  went  to  the  wheel,  and 
forced  it  round,  as  sailors  do.  Upon  that  such  a  hideous  noise 
arose,  as  I  never  should  have  believed  any  creature  capable  of 
making :  and  I  ran  to  the  well  of  the  mine  for  air,  and  to  ease 
my  ears,  if  possible. 

"Enough,  enough!  "  shouted  Uncle  Ben,  by  the  time  I  was 
nearly  deafened;  "we  will  digest  our  goodly  boulder,  after  the 
devil  is  come  abroad  for  his  evening  work.  Now,  John,  not  a 
word  about  what  you  have  learned :  but  henceforth  you  will 
not  be  frightened  by  the  noise  we  make  at  dusk." 

I  could  not  deny  but  what  this  was  very  clever  management. 
If  they  could  not  keep  the  echoes  of  the  upper  air  from  mov- 
ing, the  wisest  plan  was  to  open  their  valves  during  the  dis- 
couragement of  the  falling  evening;  when  folk  would  rather 
be  driven  away,  than  drawn  into  the  wilds  and  quagmires,  by 
a  sound  so  deep  and  awful  coming  through  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

LOKNA    GONE   AWAT. 

Although  there  are  very  ancient  tales  of  gold  being  found 
upon  Exmoor,  in  lumps  and  solid  hummocks,  and  of  men  who 
slew  one  another  for  it,  this  deep  digging  and  great  labor  seemed 
to  me  a  dangerous  and  unholy  enterprise.  And  Master  Huck- 
aback confessed  that,  up  to  the  present  time,  his  two  partners 
and  himself  (for  they  proved  to  be  three  adventurers)  had  put 


LORN  A    GONE  AWAY.  161 

into  the  earth  more  gold  than  they  had  taken  out  of  it.  Never- 
theless he  felt  quite  sure  that  it  must  in  a  very  short  time 
succeed,  and  pay  them  back  an  hundredfold;  and  he  pressed 
me  with  great  earnestness  to  join  tliem,  and  work  there  as  much 
as  I  could,  without  moving  my  mother's  suspicions.  I  asked 
him  how  they  had  managed  so  long  to  carry  on,  without  dis- 
covery; and  he  said  that  this  was  partly  through  the  wildness 
of  the  neighborhood,  and  the  legends  that  frightened  people  of 
a  superstitious  turn ;  partly  through  their  own  great  caution, 
and  manner  of  fetching  both  supplies  and  implements  by  night; 
but  most  of  all,  they  had  to  thank  the  troubles  of  the  period, 
the  suspicions  of  rebellion,  and  the  terror  of  the  Doones,  which 
(like  the  wizard  I  was  speaking  of)  kept  folk  from  being  too 
inquisitive  where  they  had  no  business.  The  slough,  more- 
over, had  helped  them  well,  both  by  making  their  access  dark, 
and  yet  more  by  swallowing  up  and  concealing  all  that  was 
cast  from  the  mouth  of  the  pit.  Once,  before  the  attack  on 
Glen  Doone,  they  had  a  narrow  escape  from  the  King's  Com- 
missioner: for  Captain  Stickles,  having  heard  no  doubt  the 
story  of  John  Fry,  went  with  half-a-dozen  troopers,  on  purpose 
to  search  the  neighborhood.  Now  if  he  had  ridden  alone,  most 
likely  he  would  have  discovered  every  thing;  but  he  feared  to 
venture  so,  liaving  suspicion  of  a  trap.  Coming  as  they  did  in 
a  company,  all  mounted  and  conspicuous,  the  watchman  (who 
was  posted  now  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  almost  every  day,  since 
John  Fry's  appearance)  could  not  help  espying  them,  miles 
distant,  over  the  moorland.  He  watched  them  under  the  sliade 
of  his  hand,  and  presently  ran  down  the  hill,  and  raised  a  great 
commotion.  Then  Simon  Carfax  and  all  his  men  came  up  and 
made  tilings  natural,  removing  every  sign  of  work;  and  finally, 
sinking  underground,  drew  across  the  mouth  of  the  pit  a  hurdle 
thatched  with  sedge  and  heather.  Only  Simon  himself  was  left 
behind,  ensconced  in  a  hole  of  the  crags,  to  observe  the  doings 
of  the  enemy. 

Captain  Stickles  rode  very  bravely,  with  all  his  men  clat- 
tering after  him,  down  the  rocky  pass,  and  even  to  the  margin 
of  the  slough.  And  there  they  stoyjped,  and  held  council;  for 
it  was  a  perilous  thing  to  risk  tlie  })assage  ui)on  horseback 
between  the  treacherous  brink  and  the  clilf,  unless  one  knew 
it  thoroughly.  Stickles,  however,  and  one  follower,  carefully 
felt  their  way  along,  having  their  horses  well  in  hand,  and 
bearing  a  rope  to  draw  them  out,  in  case  of  being  foundered. 
Then  they  sj)urred  across  the  rough  boggy  land  further  away 
than  the  shait  was.     IT(M'e  th(i  ground  lay  jagged  and  shaggy, 

VOL.  U.  —  11 


162  LORNA   BOONE. 

wrought  up  with  high  tufts  of  reed,  or  scragged  with  stunted 
brushwood.  And  between  the  ups  and  downs  (which  met  any- 
body anyhow)  green  covered  places  tempted  the  foot,  and 
black  bog-holes  discouraged  it.  It  is  not  to  be  marvelled  at 
that  amid  such  place  as  this,  for  the  first  time  visited,  the 
horses  were  a  little  skeary;  and  their  riders  partook  of  the 
feeling,  as  all  good  riders  do.  In  and  out  the  tufts  they 
y/ent,  with  their  eyes  dilating;  wishing  to  be  out  of  harm, 
if  conscience  were  but  satisfied.  And  of  this  tufty  flaggy 
ground,  pocked  with  bogs  and  boglets,  one  especial  nature  is 
that  it  will  not  hold  impressions. 

Seeing  thus  no  track  of  men,  nor  anything  but  marshwork, 
and  stormwork,  and  of  the  seasons,  these  two  honest  men 
rode  back,  and  were  glad  to  do  so.  For  above  them  hung  the 
mountains,  cowled  with  fog,  and  seamed  with  storm;  and 
around  them  desolation;  and  below  their  feet  the  grave. 
Hence  they  went  with  all  good  will;  and  vowed  for  ever 
afterwards  that  fear  of  a  simple  place  like  that  was  only  too 
ridiculous.  So  they  all  rode  home  with  mutual  praises,  and 
their  courage  well-approved ;  and  the  only  result  of  the  expedi- 
tion was  to  confirm  John  Fry's  repute  as  a  bigger  liar  than 
ever. 

Now  I  had  enough  of  that  underground  work,  as  before 
related,  to  last  me  for  a  year  to  come;  neither  would  I,  for 
sake  of  gold,  have  ever  stepped  into  that  bucket,  of  my  own 
good  will  again.  But  when  I  told  Lorna  —  whom  I  could 
trust  in  any  matter  of  secrecy,  as  if  she  had  never  been  a 
woman  —  all  about  my  great  descent,  and  the  honeycombing 
of  the  earth,  and  the  mournful  noise  at  eventide,  when  the 
gold  was  under  the  crusher,  and  bewailing  the  mischief  it 
must  do,  then  Lorna's  chief  desire  was  to  know  more  about 
Simon  Carfax. 

"It  must  be  our  Gwenny's  father,"  she  cried;  "the  man 
who  disai:»peared  underground,  and  whom  she  has  ever  been 
seeking.  How  grieved  the  poor  little  thing  will  be,  if  it 
should  turn  out,  after  all,  that  he  left  his  child  on  purpose ! 
I  can  hardly  believe  it;  can  you,  John?" 

"Well,"  I  replied;  "all  men  are  wicked,  more  or  less,  to 
some  extent:  and  no  man  may  say  otherwise." 

For  I  did  not  wish  to  commit  myself  to  an  opinion  about 
Simon,  lest  I  might  be  wrong,  and  Lorna  think  less  of  my 
judgment. 

But  being  resolved  to  seek  this  out,  and  do  a  good  turn,  if 
I  could,  to  Gwenny,  who  had  done  me  many  a  good  one,  I 


LORN  A   GONE  AWAY.  168 

begged  my  Lorna  to  say  not  a  word  of  tins  matter  to  the 
handmaiden,  until  I  had  further  searched  it  out.  ^Vnd  to 
carry  out  this  resolve,  I  went  again  to  the  place  of  business, 
where  they  were  grinding  gold  as  freely  as  an  apothecary  at 
his  pills. 

Having  now  true  right  of  entrance,  and  being  known  to  the 
watchman,  and  regarded  (since  I  cracked  the  boulder)  as  one 
wlio  could  pay  his  footing,  and  perhaps  would  be  the  master, 
when  Uncle  Ben  should  be  choked  with  money,  I  found  the 
corb  sent  up  for  me  rather  sooner  than  I  wished  it.  For  the 
smell  of  the  places  underground,  and  the  way  men's  eyes 
come  out  of  them,  with  links  and  brands,  and  flambeaux, 
instead  of  God's  light  to  look  at,  were  to  me  a  point  of  cau- 
tion, rather  than  of  pleasure. 

No  doubt  but  that  some  men  enjoy  it,  being  born,  like 
worms,  to  dig  and  to  live  in  their  own  scoopings.  Yet  even 
the  worms  come  up  sometimes,  after  a  good  soft  shower  of 
rain,  and  hold  discourse  with  one  another;  whereas  these 
men,  and  the  horses  let  down,  come  above  ground  never. 

And  the  changing  of  the  sky  is  half  the  change  our  nature 
calls  for.  Earth  we  have,  and  all  its  produce  (moving  from 
the  first  appearance,  and  the  hope  with  infant's  eyes,  tlirough 
the  bloom  of  beauty's  promise,  to  the  rich  and  bright  fulfil- 
ment, and  the  falling  back  to  rest) ;  sea  we  have  (with  all  its 
wonder  shed  on  eyes,  and  ears,  and  heart;  and  the  thought  of 
something  more)  —  but  without  the  sky  to  look  at,  what  would 
earth,  and  sea,  and  even  our  own  selves,  be  to  us? 

Do  we  look  at  earth  with  hope?  Yes,  for  victuals  only. 
Do  we  look  at  sea  with  hope?  Yes,  that  we  may  escape  it. 
At  the  sky  alone  (though  questioned  with  the  doubts  of  sun- 
shine, or  scattered  with  uncertain  stars),  at  the  sky  alone  we 
look,  with  pure  hope,  and  with  memory. 

Hence  it  always  hurt  my  feelings  when  I  got  into  that 
bucket,  with  my  small  clothes  turned  up  over,  and  a  kerchief 
round  my  hat.  But  knowing  that  my  purpose  was  sound,  and 
my  motives  pure,  1  let  the  sky  grow  to  a  little  blue  hole,  and 
tlien  to  nothing  over  me.  At  the  bottom  Master  Carfax  met 
me,  being  captain  of  the  mine,  and  desirous  to  know  my 
business.  He  wore  a  loose  sack  round  his  shoulders,  and  his 
beard  was  two  feet  long. 

"My  business  is  to  speak  with  you,"  I  answered  rather 
sternly;  for  tliis  man,  who  was  nothing  more  than  Uncle 
Kcuben's  servant,  had  carried  things  too  far  with  me,  showing 
no  respect  wliatever;  and  though  I  do  not  care  for  much,  J 
liked  to  receive  a  little,  even  in  my  early  days. 


164  LORNA   DOONE. 

"Coom  into  the  miick-liole,  then,"  was  his  gracious  answer; 
and  he  led  me  into  a  filthy  cell,  where  the  miners  changed 
their  jackets. 

'^  Simon  Carfax,"  I  began,  with  a  manner  to  discourage  him; 
"  I  fear  you  are  a  shallow  fellow,  and  not  worth  my  trouble. " 

"Then  don't  take  it,"  he  replied;  "I  want  no  man's 
trouble." 

"For  your  sake  I  would  not,"  I  answered;  "but  for  your 
daughter's  sake  I  will:  the  daughter  whom  you  left  to  starve 
so  pitifully  in  the  wilderness." 

The  man  stared  at  me  with  his  pale  gray  eyes,  whose  color 
was  lost  from  candle-light;  and  his  voice  as  well  as  his  body 
shook,  while  he  cried,  — 

"  It  is  a  lie,  man.  No  daughter  and  no  son  have  I.  Nor 
was  ever  child  of  mine  left  to  starve  in  the  wilderness.  You 
are  too  big  for  me  to  tackle,  and  that  makes  you  a  coward  for 
sajdng  it."  His  hands  were  playing  with  a  pickaxe-helve, 
as  if  he  longed  to  have  me  under  it. 

"Perhaps  I  have  wronged  you,  Simon,"  I  answered  very 
softly;  for  the  sweat  upon  his  forehead  shone  in  the  smoky 
torchlight:  "If  I  have,  I  crave  your  pardon.  But  did  you 
not  bring  up  from  Cornwall  a  little  maid  named  'Gwenny,' 
and  siipposed  to  be  your  daughter?" 

"  Ay,  and  she  was  my  daughter,  my  last  and  only  child  of 
five;  and  for  her  I  would  give  this  mine,  and  all  the  gold  will 
ever  come  from  it." 

"You  shall  have  her,  without  either  mine  or  gold;  if  you 
only  prove  to  me  that  you  did  not  abandon  her." 

"  Abandon  her !  I  abandon  Gwenny !  "  he  cried,  with  such  a- 
rage  of  scorn,  that  I  at  once  believed  him.  "  They  told  me 
she  was  dead,  and  crushed,  and  buried  in  the  drift  here;  and 
half  my  heart  died  with  her.  The  Almighty  blast  their  min- 
ing-work, if  the  scoundrels  lied  to  me !  " 

"The  scoundrels  must  have  lied  to  you,"  I  answered,  with  a 
spirit  fired  by  his  heat  of  fury :  "  the  maid  is  living,  and  with 
us.     Come  up;  and  you  shall  see  her." 

"Rig  the  bucket,"  he  shouted  out  along  the  echoing  gallery; 
and  then  he  fell  against  the  wall,  and  through  the  grimy  sack 
I  saw  the  heaving  of  his  breast,  as  I  have  seen  my  opponent's 
chest,  in  a  long  hard  bout  of  wrestling.  For  my  part,  I  could 
do  no  more  than  hold  my  tongue,  and  look  at  him. 

Without  another  word,  we  rose  to  the  level  of  the  moors 
and  mires;  neither  would  Master  Carfax  speak,  as  I  led  him 
across  the  barrows.     In  this  he  was  welcome  to  his  own  way, 


LORNA   GONE  AWAY.  165 

for  I  do  love  silence;  so  little  harm   can  come  of  it.     And 
though  Gwenny  was  no  beauty,  her  father  might  be  fond  of  her. 

So  I  put  him  in  the  cow-house  (not  to  frighten  the  little 
maid),  and  the  folding  shutters  over  him,  such  as  we  used  at 
the  beestings;  and  he  listened  to  my  voice  outside,  and  held 
on,  and  preserved  himself.  For  now  he  would  have  scooped 
the  earth,  as  cattle  do  at  yearning-time,  and  as  meekly  and 
as  patiently,  to  have  his  child  restored  to  him.  Not  to  make 
long  tale  of  it  —  for  this  thing  is  beyond  me,  through  want  of 
true  experience  —  I  went  and  fetched  his  Gwenny  forth  from 
the  back  kitchen,  where  she  was  fighting,  as  usual,  with  our 
Betty. 

"  Come  along,  you  little  Vick, "  I  said,  for  so  we  called  her ; 
"I  have  a  message  to  you,  Gwenny,  from  the  Lord  in  heaven." 

"Don't  'ee  talk  about  He,"  she  answered:  "Her  have  long 
forgatten  me." 

"  That  He  has  never  done,  you  stupid.  Come,  and  see  who 
is  in  the  cow-house." 

Gwenny  knew;  she  knew  in  a  moment.  Looking  into  my 
eyes,  she  knew;  and  hanging  back  from  me  to  sigh,  she  knew 
it  even  better. 

She  had  not  much  elegance  of  emotion,  being  flat  and  square 
all  over;  but  none  the  less  for  that  her  heart  came  quick, 
and  her  words  came  slowly. 

"  Oh,  Jan,  3^ou  are  too  good  to  cheat  me.  Is  it  joke  you 
are  putting  upon  me?" 

I  answered  her  with  a  gaze  alone;  and  she  tucked  up  her 
clothes  and  followed  me,  because  the  road  was  dirty.  Then  I 
opened  the  door  just  wide  enough  for  the  child  to  go  to  her 
father;  and  left  those  two  to  have  it  out,  as  might  be  most 
natural.     And  they  took  a  long  time  about  it. 

Meanwhile  I  needs  must  go  and  tell  my  Lorna  all  the 
matter;  and  her  joy  was  almost  as  great  as  if  she  herself  had 
found  a  father.  And  the  wonder  of  the  whole  was  this,  that 
I  got  all  the  credit;  of  which  not  a  thousandth  part  belonged 
by  right  and  reason  to  me.  Yet  so  it  almost  always  is.  If 
I  work  for  good  desert,  and  slave,  and  lie  awake  at  night,  and 
spend  my  unborn  life  in  dreams,  not  a  blink,  nor  wink,  nor 
inkling  of  my  labor  ever  tells.  It  would  have  been  better  to 
leave  unburned,  and  to  keep  undevoured,  the  fuel  and  the 
food  of  life.  But  if  I  have  labored  not,  only  acted  by  some 
impulse,  whim,  caprice,  or  any  thing;  or  even  acting  not  at 
all,  have  floated  upon  fortune's  liaul  —  piled  upon  me  com- 
mendations, bravoes,  and  applauses,  almost  work  me  up  to 
tempt  once  again  (though  sick  of  it)  the  ill-luck  of  deserving. 


166  LORNA   BOONE. 

Without  intending  any  harm,  and  meaning  only  good  in- 
deed, I  had  now  done  serious  wrong  to  Uncle  Keuben's  pros- 
pects. For  Captain  Carfax  was  full  as  angry  at  the  trick 
played  on  him,  as  he  was  happy  in  discovering  the  falsehood 
and  the  fraud  of  it.  Nor  could  I  help  agreeing  with  him, 
when  he  told  me  all  of  it,  as  witli  tears  in  his  eyes  he  did,  and 
ready  to  be  my  slave  henceforth;  I  cou.ld  not  forbear  from 
owning  that  it  was  a  low  and  heartless  trick,  unworthy  of  men 
who  had  families ;  and  the  recoil  whereof  was  well  deserved, 
whatever  it  might  end  in. 

For  when  this  poor  man  left  his  daughter,  (asleep  as  he 
supposed,  and  having  his  food,  and  change  of  clothes,  and 
Sunday  hat  to  see  to,)  he  meant  to  return  in  an  hour  or  so, 
and  settle  about  her  sustenance  in  some  house  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. But  this  was  the  very  thing  of  all  things  which  the 
leaders  of  the  enterprise,  who  had  brought  him  up  from  Corn- 
wall, for  his  noted  skill  in  metals,  were  determined,  whether 
by  fair  means  or  foul,  to  stop  at  the  very  outset.  Secrecy 
being  their  main  object,  what  chance  could  be  there  of  it,  if 
the  miners  were  alloAved  to  keep  their  children  in  the  neigh- 
borhood? Hence,  on  the  plea  of  feasting  Simon,  they  kept 
him  drunk  for  three  days  and  three  nights,  assuring  him 
(whenever  he  had  gleams  enough  to  ask  for  her)  that  his 
daughter  was  as  well  as  could  be,  and  enjoying  herself  with 
the  children.  Not  wishing  the  maid  to  see  him  tipsy,  he 
pressed  the  matter  no  further;  but  applied  himself  to  the 
bottle  again,  and  drank  her  health  with  pleasure. 

However,  after  three  days  of  this,  his  constitution  rose 
against  it,  and  he  became  quite  sober ;  with  a  certain  lowness 
of  heart  moreover,  and  a  sense  of  error.  And  his  first  desire 
to  right  himself,  and  easiest  way  to  do  it,  was  by  exerting 
parental  authority  upon  Gwenny.  Possessed  with  this  inten- 
tion (for  he  was  not  a  sweet-tempered  man,  and  his  head  was 
aching  sadly),  he  sought  for  Gwenny  high  and  low;  first  with 
threats,  and  then  with  fears,  and  then  with  tears  and  wailing. 
And  so  he  became  to  the  other  men  a  warning  and  great  annoy- 
ance. Therefore  they  combined  to  swear  what  seemed  a  very 
likely  thing,  and  might  be  true  for  all  they  knew;  to  wit, 
that  Gwenny  had  come  to  seek  for  her  father  down  the  shaft- 
hole,  and  peering  too  eagerly  into  the  dark,  had  toppled  for- 
ward, and  gone  down,  and  lain  at  the  bottom  as  dead  as  a 
stone. 

"And  thou  being  so  happy  with  drink,"  the  villains  finished 
up  to  him,  "and  getting  drunker  every  day,  we  thought  it 


LORN  A   GONE  AWAY.  167 

shame  to  trouble  thee,  and  we  buried  the  wench  in  tlie  lower 
drift;  and  no  use  to  think  more  of  her;  but  come  and  have  a 
glass,  Sim." 

But  Simon  Carfax  swore  that  drink  had  lost  him  his  wife, 
and  now  had  lost  him  the  last  of  his  five  children,  and  would 
lose  him  his  own  soul,  if  further  he  went  on  Avith  it;  and 
from  that  day  to  his  death  he  never  touched  strong  drink 
again.  Nor  only  this;  but  being  soon  appointed  captain  of 
the  mine,  he  allowed  no  man  on  any  pretext  to  bring  cordials 
tliither;  and  to  this  and  his  stern  hard  rule,  and  stealthy 
secret  management  (as  much  as  to  good  luck  and  place)  might 
it  be  attributed  that  scarcely  any  but  themselves  had  dreamed 
about  this  Exmoor  mine. 

As  for  me,  I  had  no  ambition  to  become  a  miner;  and  the 
state  to  which  gold-seeking  had  brought  poor  Uncle  Ben  was 
not  at  all  encouraging.  My  business  was  to  till  the  ground, 
and  tend  the  growth  that  came  of  it,  and  store  the  fruit  in 
Heaven's  good  time,  rather  than  to  scoop  and  burrow,  like 
a  weasel  or  a  rat,  for  the  yellow  root  of  evil.  Moreover,  I 
was  led  from  home,  between  the  hay  and  corn  harvests  (when 
we  often  have  a  week  to  spare),  by  a  call  there  was  no  re- 
sisting; unless  I  gave  up  all  regard  for  wrestling,  and  for  my 
county. 

Now  here  many  persons  may  take  me  amiss,  and  there 
always  has  been  some  confusion;  wliich  people  who  ought  to 
have  known  better  have  wrought  into  subject  of  quarrelling. 
By  birth,  it  is  true,  and  cannot  be  denied,  that  I  am  a  man  of 
Somerset;  nevertheless  by  breed  I  am,  as  well  as  by  educa- 
tion, a  son  of  Devon  also.  And  just  as  both  our  two  coun- 
ties vowed  that  Glen  Doone  was  none  of  theirs,  but  belonged 
to  the  other  one;  so  now,  each  with  hot  claim  and  jangling 
(leading  even  to  blows  sometimes),  asserted  and  would  swear 
to  it  (as  I  became  more  famous)  that  Jolm  Ridd  was  of  its 
own  producing,  lu-ed  of  its  own  true  blood,  and  basely  stolen 
by  the  other. 

Now  I  liave  not  judged  it  in  any  way  needful,  or  even  be- 
coming and  delicate,  to  enter  into  my  wrestling  adventures, 
or  descri])e  my  progress.  The  whole  thing  is  so  different  from 
Lorna,  and  her  gentle  manners,  and  her  style  of  walking; 
moreover  I  must  seem  (even  to  kind  people)  to  magnify  my- 
self so  much,  or  at  least  att(!mi)t  to  do  it,  that  I  have  scratched 
out  written  j)ages,  through  my  better  taste  and  sense. 

Neitlu^r  will  I,  u])on  this  lu^ad,  make;  any  difference  even 
now;  being  simply  l)('tray<'d  iiito  mention iiifj-  the  matter,  be- 
cause bare  truth  requires  it,  in  the  tale  of  Lorna's  fortunes. 


168  LORNA   BOONE. 

For  a  mighty  giant  had  arisen  in  a  part  of  Cornwall ;  and 
his  calf  was  twenty-five  inches  round,  and  the  breadth  of  his 
shoulders  two  feet  and  a  quarter;  and  his  stature  seven  feet 
and  three  quarters.  Round  the  chest  he  was  seventy  inches, 
and  his  hand  a  foot  across,  and  there  were  no  scales  strong 
enough  to  judge  of  his  weight  in  the  market-place.  Now  this 
man  —  or  I  should  say,  his  backers  and  his  boasters,  for  the 
giant  himself  was  modest  —  sent  me  a  brave  and  haughty 
challenge,  to  meet  him  in  the  ring  at  Bodmin-town,  on  the 
first  day  of  August,  or  else  to  return  my  champion's  belt  to 
them  by  the  messenger. 

It  is  no  use  to  deny  that  I  was  greatly  dashed  and  seared 
at  first.  For  my  part,  I  was  only,  when  measured  without 
clothes  on,  sixty  inches  round  the  breast,  and  round  the  calf 
scarce  twenty-one,  only  two  feet  across  tlae  shoulders,  and  in 
height  not  six  and  three  quarters.  However,  my  mother 
would  never  believe  that  this  man  could  beat  me ;  and  Lorna 
being  of  the  same  mind,  I  resolved  to  go  and  try  him,  as  they 
would  pay  all  expenses,  and  a  hundred  pounds,  if  I  conquered 
him ;  so  confident  were  those  Cornishmen. 

Now  this  story  is  too  well-known  for  me  to  go  through  it 
again  and  again.  Every  child  in  Devonshire  knows,  and  his 
grandson  will  know,  the  song  which  some  clever  man  made  of 
it,  after  I  had  treated  him  to  water,  and  to  lemon,  and  a  little 
sugar,  and  a  drop  of  eau-de-vie.  Enough  that  I  had  found  the 
giant  quite  as  big  as  they  had  described  him,  and  enough  to 
terrify  any  one.  But  trusting  in  my  practice  and  study  of 
the  art,  I  resolved  to  try  a  back  Avith  him ;  and  when  my  arms 
were  round  him  once,  the  giant  was  but  a  farthingale  put  into 
the  vice  of  a  blacksmith.  The  man  had  no  bones;  his  frame 
sank  in,  and  I  was  afraid  of  crushing  him.  He  lay  on  his 
back,  and  smiled  at  me;  and  I  begged  his  pardon. 

Now  this  affair  made  a  noise  at  the  time,  and  redounded  so 
much  to  my  credit,  that  I  was  deeply  grieved  at  it,  because 
deserving  none.  For  I  do  like  a  good  strife  and  struggle; 
and  the  doubt  makes  the  joy  of  victory ;  whereas  in  this  case 
I  might  as  well  have  been  sent  for  a  match  with  a  hay-mow. 
However,  I  got  my  hundred  pounds,  and  made  up  my  mind 
to  spend  every  farthing  in  presents  for  mother  and  Lorna. 

For  Annie  was  married  by  this  time,  and  long  before  I  went 
away ;  as  need  scarcely  be  said  perhaps,  if  any  c  ae  follows  the 
weeks  and  the  months.  The  wedding  was  quiet  enough, 
except  for  every  body's  good  wishes;  and  I  desire  not  to  dwell 
upon  it,  because  it  grieved  lue  in  many  ways. 


LORN  A   GONE  AWAY.  169 

But  now  that  I  had  tried  to  hope  the  very  best  for  dear 
Annie,  a  deeper  blow  than  could  have  come,  even  through 
her,  awaited  me.  For  after  that  visit  to  Cornwall,  and  with 
my  prize-money  about  me,  I  came  on  foot  from  Okehampton 
to  Oare,  so  as  to  save  a  little  sum  towards  my  time  of  marry- 
ing. For  Lorna's  fortune  I  would  not  have ;  small  or  great  I 
would  not  have  it;  only  if  there  were  no  denying,  we  would 
devote  the  whole  of  it  to  charitable  uses,  as  Master  Peter  Blun- 
dell  had  done ;  and  perhaps  the  future  ages  would  endeavor  to 
be  grateful.  Lorna  and  I  had  settled  this  question,  at  least 
twice  a  day,  on  the  average;  and  each  time  with  more  satis- 
faction. 

Now  coming  into  the  kitchen,  with  all  my  cash  in  my 
breeches  pocket  (golden  guineas,  with  an  elephant  on  them, 
for  the  stamp  of  the  guinea  company),  I  found  dear  mother 
most  heartily  glad  to  see  me  safe  and  sound  again  —  for  she 
had  dreaded  that  giant,  and  dreamed  of  him  —  and  she  never 
asked  me  about  the  money.  Lizzie  also  was  softer,  and  more 
gracious  than  usual ;  especially  when  she  saw  me  pour  guineas, 
like  pepper-corns,  into  the  pudding-basin.  But  by  the  way 
they  hung  about,  I  knew  that  something  was  gone  wrong. 

"Where  is  Lorna?"  I  asked  at  length,  after  trying  not  to 
ask  it :  "I  want  her  to  come,  and  see  my  money.  She  never 
saw  so  much  before." 

"Alas!"  said  mother,  with  a  heavy  sigh;  "she  will  see  a 
great  deal  more,  I  fear;  and  a  deal  more  than  is  good  for  her. 
Whether  you  ever  see  her  again  will  depend  upon  her  nature, 
John." 

"What  do  you  mean,  mother?  Have  you  quarrelled? 
Why  does  not  Lorna  come  to  me?    Am  I  never  to  know?" 

"Xow,  John,  be  not  so  impatient,"  my  mother  replied, 
quite  calmly,  for  in  truth  she  was  jealous  of  Lorna:  "you 
could  wait  now  very  well,  John,  if  it  were  till  this  day  week, 
for  the  coming  of  your  mother,  John.  And  yet  your  mother 
is  your  best  friend.     Who  can  ever  fill  her  place?" 

Thinking  of  her  future  absence,  mother  turned  away  and 
cried;  and  the  box-iron  singed  the  blanket. 

"Now,"  said  I,  being  wild  by  this  time;  "Lizzie,  you  have 
a  little  sense ;  will  you  tell  me  where  is  Lorna?  " 

"The  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,"  said  Lizzie,  screwing  up  her 
lips,  as  if  the  title  were  too  grand,  "  is  gone  to  London, 
brother  John;  and  not  likely  to  come  back  again.  We  must 
try  to  get  on  without  her." 

"  You  little  "  —  [something]  I  cried,  which  I  dare  not  write 


170  LORNA   BOONE. 

down  here,  as  all  you  are  too  good  for  such  language;  but 
Lizzie's  lips  provoked  me  so  —  "  my  Lorna  gone,  my  Lorna 
gone !  And  without  good-bye  to  me  even !  It  is  your  spite 
has  sickened  her." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken  there,"  she  replied;  "how  can 
folk  of  low  degree  have  either  spite  or  liking  towards  the 
people  so  far  above  them?  The  Lady  Lorna  Dugal  is  gone, 
because  she  could  not  help  herself;  and  she  wept  enough  to 
break  ten  hearts  —  if  hearts  are  ever  broken,  John. " 

"  Darling  Lizzie,  how  good  you  are !  "  I  cried,  without  notic- 
ing her  sneer:  "tell  me  all  about  it,  dear;  tell  me  every  word 
she  said." 

"That  will  not  take  long,"  said  Lizzie,  quite  as  unmoved 
by  soft  coaxing  as  by  urgent  cursing:  "the  lady  spoke  very 
little  to  any  one,  except  indeed  to  mother,  and  to  Gwenny 
Carfax :  and  Gwenny  is  gone  with  her,  so  that  the  benefit  of 
that  is  lost.  But  she  left  a  letter  for  'poor  John,'  as  in 
charity  she  called  him.  How  grand  she  looked,  to  be  sure, 
with  the  fine  clothes  on  that  were  come  for  her !  " 

"Where  is  the  letter,  you  utter  vixen?  Oh,  may  you  have 
a  husband ! " 

"  Who  will  thrash  it  out  of  you,  and  starve  it,  and  swear  it 
out  of  you; "  was  the  meaning  of  my  imprecation:  but  Lizzie, 
not  dreaming  as  yet  of  such  things,  could  not  understand  me, 
and  was  rather  thankful;  therefore  she  answered  quietly, — 

"  The  letter  is  in  the  little  cupboard,  near  the  head  of  Lady 
Lorna's  bed,  where  she  used  to  keep  the  diamond  necklace, 
which  we  contrived  to  get  stolen." 

Without  another  word,  I  rushed  (so  that  every  board  in  the 
house  shook)  up  to  my  lost  Lorna's  room,  and  tore  the  little 
wall-niche  open,  and  espied  my  treasure.  It  was  as  simple, 
and  as  homely,  and  loving,  as  even  I  could  wish.  Part  of  it 
ran  as  follows  —  the  other  parts  it  behoves  me  not  to  open  out 
to  strangers :  "  My  own  love,  and  sometime  lord,  —  Take  it  not 
amiss  of  me,  that  even  without  farewell,  I  go ;  for  I  cannot 
persuade  the  men  to  wait,  your  return  being  doubtful.  My 
great  uncle,  some  grand  lord,  is  awaiting  me  at  Dunster,  having 
fear  of  venturing  too  near  this  Exmoor  country.  I,  who  have 
been  so  lawless  always,  and  the  child  of  outlaws,  am  now  to 
atone  for  this,  it  seems,  by  living  in  a  court  of  law,  and  under 
special  surveillance  (as  they  call  it,  I  believe)  of  His  Majesty's 
Court  of  Chancery.  My  uncle  is  appointed  my  guardian  and 
master;  and  I  must  live  beneath  his  care,  until  I  am  twenty- 
one  years  old.     To  me  this  appears  a  dreadful  thing,  and  very 


LORN  A   GONE  AWAY.  171 

unjust,  and  cruel ;  for  why  should  I  lose  my  freedom,  through 
heritage  of  laud  aud  gold?  I  offered  to  abandon  all,  if  they 
would  only  let  me  go :  I  went  down  on  my  knees  to  them,  and 
said  I  wanted  titles  not,  neither  land,  nor  money;  only  to  stay 
where  I  was,  where  lirst  1  had  known  hap})iness.  But  they 
only  laughed,  and  called  me  'child,'  and  said  1  must  talk  of 
that  to  the  King's  High  Chancellor.  Their  orders  they  had, 
and  must  obey  them ;  and  Master  Stickles  was  ordered  too  to 
help,  as  the  King's  Commissioner.  And  then,  although  it 
pierced  my  heart  not  to  say  one  'Good-bye,  John,'  1  was  glad 
upon  the  whole  that  you  were  not  here  to  dispute  it.  For  I 
am  almost  certain  that  you  would  not,  without  force  to  your- 
self, have  let  your  Lorna  go  to  people  who  never,  never  can 
care  for  her," 

Here  my  darling  had  wept  again,  by  the  tokens  on  the  paper; 
and  then  there  followed  some  sweet  words,  too  sweet  for  me  to 
chatter  them.  But  she  finished  with  these  noble  lines,  which 
(being  common  to  all  humanity,  in  a  case  of  steadfast  love)  I 
Qo  no  harm,  but  rather  help  all  true  love,  by  repeating :  "  Of 
one  thing  rest  you  well  assured  —  and  I  do  hope  that  it  may 
prove  of  service  to  your  rest,  love,  else  would  my  own  be 
broken  —  no  difference  of  rank,  or  fortune,  or  of  life  itself, 
shall  ever  make  me  swerve  from  truth  to  you.  We  have  passed 
through  many  troubles,  dangers,  and  dispartments,  but  never 
yet  was  doubt  between  us;  neither  ever  shall  be.  Each  has 
trusted  well  the  other;  and  still  each  must  do  so.  Though 
they  tell  you  I  am  false,  though  your  own  mind  harbors  it, 
from  the  sense  of  things  around,  and  your  own  under-valuing, 
yet  take  counsel  of  your  heart,  and  cast  such  thoughts  away 
from  you;  being  unworthy  of  itself,  they  must  be  unworthy 
also  of  the  one  who  dwells  there :  and  that  one  is,  and  ever 
shall  be,  your  own  Lorna  Dugal." 

Some  people  cannot  understand  that  tears  should  come  from 
pleasure ;  but  whether  from  pleasure  or  from  sorrow  (mixed  as 
they  are  in  the  twisted  strings  of  a  man's  heart,  or  a  woman's), 
great  tears  fell  from  my  stupid  eyes,  even  on  the  blots  of 
Lorna's. 

"No  doubt  it  is  all  over!"  my  mind  said  to  me  bitterly: 
"Trust  me,  all  shall  yet  be  right!"  my  heart  replied  very 
sweetly. 


172  LOEIfA  BOONE. 

CHAPTER  LX. 

ANNIE    LUCKIER   THAN   JOHN. 

Some  people  may  look  down  upon  us  for  our  slavish  ways 
(as  they  may  choose  to  call  them),  but  in  our  part  of  the  coun- 
try, we  do  love  to  mention  title,  and  to  roll  it  on  our  tongues, 
with  a  conscience  and  a  comfort.  Even  if  a  man  knows  not, 
through  fault  of  education,  who  the  Duke  of  this  is,  or  the  Earl 
of  that,  it  will  never  do  for  him  to  say  so,  lest  the  room  look 
down  on  him.  Therefore  he  must  nod  his  head,  and  say,  "  Ah, 
to  be  sure !  I  know  him  as  well  as  ever  I  know  my  own  good 
woman's  brother.  He  married  Lord  Flipflap's  second  daugh- 
ter, and  a  precious  life  she  led  him."  Whereupon  the  room 
looks  up  at  him.  But  I,  being  quite  unable  to  carry  all  tliis 
in  my  head,  as  I  ought,  was  speedily  put  down  by  people  of  a 
noble  tendency,  apt  at  Lords,  and  pat  with  Dukes,  and  know- 
ing more  about  the  King  than  His  Majesty  would  have  re- 
quested. Therefore,  I  fell  back  in  thouglit,  not  daring  hi 
words  to  do  so,  upon  the  titles  of  our  horses.  And  all  these 
horses  deserved  their  names,  not  having  merely  inherited,  but 
by  their  own  doing  earned  them.  Smiler,  for  instance,  had 
been  so  called,  not  so  much  from  a  habit  of  smiling,  as  from 
his  general  geniality,  white  nose,  and  white  ankle.  This 
worthy  horse  was  now  in  years,  but  hale  and  gay  as  ever;  and 
when  you  let  him  out  of  the  stable,  he  could  neigh  and  whinny, 
and  make  men  and  horses  know  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
Kickums  was  a  horse  of  morose  and  surly  order ;  harboring  up 
revenge,  and  leading  a  rider  to  false  confidence.  Very  smoothly 
he  would  go,  and  as  gentle  as  a  turtle-dove ;  until  his  rider 
fully  believed  that  a  pack-thread  was  enough  for  him,  and  a 
pat  of  approval  upon  his  neck  the  aim  and  crown  of  his  worthy 
life.  Then  suddenly  up  went  his  hind  feet  to  heaven,  and  the 
rider  for  the  most  part  flew  over  his  nose :  whereupon  good 
Kickums  would  take  advantage  of  his  favorable  position,  to 
come  and  bite  a  piece  out  of  his  back.  Now  in  my  present 
state  of  mind,  being  understood  of  nobody,  having  none  to  bear 
me  company,  neither  wishing  to  have  any,  an  indefinite  kind 
of  attraction  drew  me  into  Kickums'  society.  A  bond  of 
mutual  sympathy  was  soon  established  between  us :  I  would 
ride  no  other  horse,  neither  Kickums  be  ridden  by  any  other 
man.     And  this  good  horse  became  as  jealous  about  me  as  a 


ANNIE  LUCKIER    THAN  JOHN.  l73 

dog  might  be ;  and  Avould  lasli  out,  or  run  teeth  foremost,  at 
any  one  who  came  near  him  when  I  was  on  his  back. 

This  season,  the  reaping  of  the  corn,  which  had  been,  but  a 
year  ago,  so  pleasant  and  so  lightsome,  was  become  a  heavy 
labor,  and  a  thing  for  grumbling  rather  than  for  gladness. 
However,  for  the  sake  of  all,  it  must  be  attended  to,  and  with 
as  fair  a  show  of  spirit,  and  alacrity,  as  might  be.  For  other- 
wise the  rest  would  drag,  and  drop  their  hands  and  idle,  being 
quicker  to  take  infection  of  dulness  than  of  diligence.  And 
the  harvest  was  a  heavy  one,  even  heavier  than  the  year  before, 
although  of  poorer  quality.  Therefore  was  I  forced  to  work 
as  hard  as  any  horse  could,  during  all  the  daylight  hours,  and 
defer  till  night  the  brooding  upon  my  misfortune.  But  the 
darkness  ahvays  found  me  stiff  with  work,  and  weary,  and  less 
able  to  think  than  to  dream,  may  be,  of  Lorna.  But  now  the 
house  was  so  dull  and  lonesome,  wanting  Annie's  pretty  pres- 
ence, and  the  light  of  Lorna' s  eyes,  that  a  man  had  no  tempta- 
tion, after  supper-time,  even  to  sit  and  smoke  a  pipe. 

For  Lizzie,  though  so  learned,  and  pleasant  when  it  suited 
her,  never  had  taken  very  kindly  to  my  love  for  Lorna,  and 
being  of  a  proud  and  slightly  upstart  nature,  could  not  bear 
to  be  eclipsed,  in  bearing,  looks,  and  breeding,  and  even  in 
clothes,  by  the  stranger.  For  one  thing  I  will  say  of  the 
Doones,  that  whether  by  purchase  or  plunder,  they  had  always 
dressed  my  darling  well,  with  her  own  sweet  taste  to  help  them. 
And  though  Lizzie's  natural  hate  of  the  maid  (as  a  Doone,  and 
burdened  with  father's  death)  should  have  been  changed  to 
remorse,  when  she  learned  of  Lorna's  real  parentage,  it  was 
only  altered  to  sullenness,  and  discontent  with  herself,  for 
frequent  rudeness  to  an  innocent  person,  and  one  of  such  high 
descent.  Moreover  the  child  had  imbibed  strange  ideas  as  to 
our  aristocracy,  partly  perhaps  from  her  own  way  of  thinking, 
and  partly  from  reading  of  history.  For  while  from  one  point 
of  view  she  looked  up  at  them  very  demurely,  as  commissioned 
by  God  for  the  country's  good;  from  another  sight  she  disliked 
them,  as  ready  to  sacrifice  their  best,  and  follow  their  worst 
members. 

Yet  why  should  this  wench  dare  to  judge  upon  a  matter  so 
far  beyond  her,  and  form  opinions  wliich  she  knew  better  tliau 
to  declare  before  mother?  But  witli  me  she  liad  no  such  scrui)le, 
for  I  had  no  authority  over  her;  and  my  intellect  she  looked 
down  upon,  because  1  ])raised  her  own  so.  Thus  she  made 
herself  very  unph-asant  to  me;  by  little  jags  and  jerks  of 
sneering,  sped  as  tliough  unwittingly;  wliicli  I  (who  now  con- 


174  LOENA   BOONE. 

sidered  myself  allied  to  tlie  aristocracy,  and  perhaps  took  airs 
on  that  account)  had  not  wit  enough  to  parry,  yet  had  wound 
enough  to  feel. 

Now  any  one  who  does  not  know  exactly  how  mothers  feel 
and  think,  Avould  have  expected  my  mother  (than  whom  could 
be  no  better  one)  to  pet  me,  and  make  much  of  me,  under  my 
sad  trouble :  to  hang  with  anxiety  on  my  looks,  and  shed  her 
tears  with  mine  (if  any),  and  season  every  dish  of  meat  put  by 
for  her  John's  return.  And  if  the  whole  truth  must  be  told, 
I  did  expect  that  sort  of  thing,  and  thought  what  a  plague  it 
would  be  to  me ;  yet  not  getting  it,  was  vexed,  as  if  by  some 
new  injury.  For  mother  was  a  special  creature  (as  I  suppose 
we  all  are),  being  the  warmest  of  the  warm,  when  fired  at  the 
proper  corner ;  and  yet,  if  taken  at  the  wrong  point,  you  would 
say  she  was  incombustible. 

Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  I  had  no  one  even  to  speak  to 
about  Lorna  and  my  grievances ;  for  Captain  Stickles  was  now 
gone  southward ;  and  John  Fry,  of  course,  was  too  low  for  it, 
although  a  married  man,  and  well  under  his  wife's  manage- 
ment. But  finding  myself  unable  at  last  to  bear  this  any 
longer,  upon  the  first  day  when  all  the  wheat  was  cut,  and  the 
stooks  set  up  in  every  field,  yet  none  quite  fit  for  carrying,  I 
saddled  good  Kickums  at  five  in  the  morning,  and  without  a 
word  to  mother  (for  a  little  anxiety  might  do  her  good)  off  I 
set  for  Holland  parish,  to  have  the  counsel  and  the  comfort  of 
my  darling  Annie. 

The  horse  took  me  over  the  ground  so  fast  (there  being  few 
better  to  go,  when  he  liked),  that  by  nine  o'clock  Annie  was 
in  my  arms,  and  blushing  to  the  color  of  Winnie's  cheeks,  with 
sudden  delight  and  young  happiness. 

"You  precious  little  soul!  "  I  cried:  "how  does  Tom  behave 
to  you?" 

"Hush!"  said  Annie:  "how  dare  you  ask?  He  is  the 
kindest,  and  the  best  and  the  noblest  of  all  men,  John:  not 
even  setting  yourself  aside.  Now  look  not  jealous,  John :  so 
it  is.  We  all  have  special  gifts,  you  know.  You  are  as  good 
as  you  can  be,  John;  but  my  husband's  special  gift  is  nobility 
of  character."  Here  she  looked  at  me,  as  one  who  has  dis- 
covered something  quite  unknown. 

"I  am  devilish  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  I,  being  touched  at 
going  down  so:  "keep  him  to  that  mark,  my  dear;  and  cork 
the  whisky  bottle." 

"Yes,  darling  John,"  she  answered  quickly,  not  desiring  to 
open  that  subject,  and  being  too  sweet  to  resent  it:  "and  how 


ANNIE  LUCKIER    THAN  JOHN.  175 

is  lovely  Lorna?     What  an  age  it  is  since  I  have  seen  you!     I 
suppose  we  must  thank  her  for  that." 

"  You  may  thank  her  for  seeing  me  now,"  said  I ;  "or  rather," 
seeing  how  hurt  she  looked,  "you  may  thank  my  knowledge  of 
your  kindness,  and  my  desire  to  speak  of  her  to  a  soft-hearted 
dear  little  soul  like  you.  I  think  all  the  women  are  gone  mad. 
Even  mother  treats  me  shamefully.     And  as  for  Lizzie " 

Here  I  stopped,  knowing  no  words  strong  enough,  without 
shocking  Annie. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Lorna  is  gone?"  asked  Annie,  in 
great  amazement ;  yet  leaping  at  the  truth,  as  women  do,  with 
nothing  at  all  to  leap  from. 

"Gone.  And  I  never  shall  see  her  again.  It  serves  me 
right  for  aspiring  so." 

Being  grieved  at  my  manner,  she  led  me  in  where  none  could 
interrupt  us;  and  in  spite  of  all  my  dejection,  I  could  not  help 
noticing  how  very  pretty,  and  even  elegant  all  things  were 
around.  For  we  upon  Exmoor  have  little  taste;  all  we  care 
for  is  warm  comfort,  and  plenty  to  eat,  and  to  give  away,  and 
a  hearty  smack  in  every  thing.  But  Squire  Faggus  had  seen 
the  world,  and  kept  company  with  great  people ;  and  the  taste 
he  had  first  displayed  in  the  shoeing  of  farmers'  horses  (which 
led  almost  to  his  ruin,  by  bringing  him  into  jealousy,  and 
flattery,  and  dashing  ways)  had  now  been  cultivated  in  London, 
and  by  moonlight,  so  that  none  could  help  admiring  it. 

"Well!  "  I  cried,  for  the  moment  dropping  care  and  woe  in 
astonishment :  "  we  have  nothing  like  this  at  Plover's  Barrows; 
nor  even  Uncle  Eeuben.     I  do  hope  it  is  honest,  Annie?" 

"  Would  I  sit  in  a  chair  that  was  not  my  own?  "  asked  Annie, 
turning  crimson,  and  dropping  defiantly,  and  with  a  whisk  of 
her  dress  which  I  never  had  seen  before,  into  the  very  grandest 
one:  "would  I  lie  on  a  coucli,  brother  John,  do  you  think, 
unless  good  money  was  paid  for  it?  Because  other  people  are 
clever,  John,  you  need  not  grudge  them  their  earnings." 

"A  couch?"  I  replied:  "wliy  what  can  you  want  with  a 
couch  in  the  day-time,  Annie?  A  couch  is  a  small  bed,  setup 
in  a  room  without  space  for  a  good  four-poster.  What  can 
you  want  with  a  couch  downstairs?  I  never  heard  of  such 
nonsense.     And  you  ought  to  be  in  the  dairy." 

"I  won't  cry,  brother  John,  I  won't;  because  you  want  to 
make  me  cry; "  and  all  the  time  she  was  crying;  "you  always 
were  so  nasty,  John,  sometimes.  Ah,  you  have  no  nobility  of 
character,  like  uiy  liusband.  And  I  have  not  seen  you  for  two 
montlis,  John:  and  now  you  come  to  scold  me!  " 


176  LORNA  BOONE. 

"You  little  darling,"  I  said,  for  Annie's  tears  always  con- 
quered me ;  "  if  all  the  rest  ill-use  me,  I  will  not  quarrel  with 
you,  dear.  You  have  always  been  true  to  me ;  and  I  can  for- 
give your  vanity.  Your  things  are  very  pretty,  dear;  and 
you  may  couch  ten  times  a  day,  without  my  interference.  No 
doubt  your  husband  has  paid  for  all  this,  with  the  ponies  he 
stole  from  Exmoor.  Nobility  of  character  is  a  thing  beyond 
my  understanding;  but  when  my  sister  loves  a  man,  and  he 
does  well  and  flourishes,  who  am  I  to  find  fault  with  him? 
Mother  ought  to  see  these  things :  they  would  turn  her  head 
almost :  look  at  the  pimples  on  the  chairs !  " 

"  They  are  nothing, "  Annie  answered,  after  kissing  me  lor 
my  kindness ;  "  they  are  only  put  in  for  the  time  indeed :  and 
we  are  to  have  much  better,  with  gold  all  round  the  bindings, 
and  double  plush  at  the  corners;  so  soon  as  ever  the  King 
repay^s  the  debt  he  owes  to  my  poor  Tom." 

I  thought  to  myself  that  our  present  King  had  been  most 
unlucky  in  one  thing  —  debts  all  over  the  kingdom.  Not  a 
man  who  had  struck  a  blow  for  the  King,  or  for  his  poor  father, 
or  even  said  a  good  word  for  him,  in  the  time  of  his  adversity, 
but  expected  at  least  a  baronetcy,  and  a  grant  of  estates  to  sup- 
port it.  Many  have  called  King  Charles  ungrateful:  and  he 
may  have  been  so.  But  some  indulgence  is  due  to  a  man,  with 
entries  few  on  the  credit  side,  and  a  terrible  column  of  debits. 

"  Have  no  fear  for  the  chair, "  I  said,  for  it  creaked  under 
me  very  fearfully,  having  legs  not  so  large  as  my  finger;  "if 
the  chair  breaks,  Annie,  your  fear  should  be,  lest  the  tortoise- 
shell  run  into  me.  Why  it  is  striped  like  a  viper's  loins !  I 
saw  some  hundreds  in  London;  and  very  cheap  they  are.  They 
are  made  to  be  sold  to  the  country  people,  such  as  you  and  me, 
dear;  and  carefully  kept  they  will  last  for  almost  half-a-year. 
Now  will  you  come  back  from  your  furniture,  and  listen  to  my 
story?" 

Annie  was  a  hearty  dear,  and  she  knew  that  half  my  talk  was 
joke,  to  make  light  of  my  worrying.  Therefore  she  took  it  in 
good  part,  as  I  well  knew  that  she  would  do ;  and  she  led  me 
to  a  good  honest  chair;  and  she  sat  in  my  lap,  and  kissed  me. 

"  All  this  is  not  like  you,  John.  All  this  is  not  one  bit  like 
you :  and  your  cheeks  are  not  as  they  ought  to  be.  I  shall 
have  to  come  home  again,  if  the  women  worry  my  brother  so. 
We  always  held  together,  John;  and  we  always  will,  you 
know." 

"  You  dear !  "  I  cried,  "  there  is  nobody  wlio  understands  me 
as  you  do.  Lorna  makes  too  much  of  me,  and  the  rest  they 
make  too  little." 


ANNIE  LUCKIER   THAN  JOHN.  177 

"  Xot  mother ;  oli,  not  mother,  John !  " 

"No,  mother  makes  too  much,  no  doubt;  but  wants  it  all  for 
herself  alone ;  and  reckons  it  as  a  part  of  her.  She  makes  me 
more  wroth  than  any  one :  as  if  not  only  my  life,  but  all  my 
head  and  heart  must  seek  from  hers,  and  have  no  other  thought 
or  care." 

Being  sped  of  my  grumbling  thus,  and  eased  into  better 
temper,  I  told  Annie  all  the  strange  history  about  Lorna,  and 
her  departure,  and  the  small  chance  that  now  remained  to  me 
of  ever  seeing  my  love  again.  To  this  Annie  would  not  hearken 
twice,  but  judging  women  by  her  faithful  self,  was  quite  vexed 
with  me  for  thinking  so.  And  then,  to  my  surprise  and  sor- 
row, she  would  deliver  no  opinion  as  to  Avhat  I  ought  to  do, 
until  she  had  consulted  darling  Tom. 

Dear  Tom  knew  much  of  the  world,  no  doubt,  especially  the 
dark  side  of  it.  But  to  me  it  scarcely  seemed  becoming  that 
my  course  of  action  with  regard  to  the  Lady  Lorna  Dugal 
should  be  referred  to  Tom  Faggus,  and  depend  upon  his  decis- 
ion. However  I  would  not  grieve  Annie  again  by  making 
light  of  her  husband;  and  so  when  he  came  in  to  dinner,  the 
matter  was  laid  before  him. 

Now  this  man  never  confessed  himself  surprised,  under  any 
circumstances;  his  knowledge  of  life  being  so  profound,  and 
his  charity  universal.  And  in  the  present  case  he  vowed  that 
he  had  suspected  it  all  along,  and  could  have  thrown  light  upon 
Lorna's  history,  if  we  had  seen  fit  to  apply  to  him.  L^pon 
further  inquiry  I  found  that  this  light  was  a  very  dim  one, 
flowing  only  from  the  fact  that  he  had  stopped  her  mother's 
coach,  at  the  village  of  Bolham,  on  the  Bampton  road,  the  day 
before  I  saw  them.  Finding  only  women  therein,  and  these  in 
a  sad  condition,  Tom  with  his  usual  chivalry  (as  he  had  no 
scent  of  the  necklace)  allowed  them  to  pass;  with  nothing 
more  than  a  pleasant  exchange  of  courtesies,  and  a  testimonial 
forced  upon  him,  in  the  shape  of  a  bottle  of  Burgundy  wine. 
This  the  poor  countess  handed  him;  and  he  twisted  the  cork 
out  with  his  teeth,  and  drank  licr  liealth  with  his  hat  off. 

"  A  lady  she  was,  and  a  true  one :  and  I  am  a  pretty  good 
judge,"  said  Tom:  "ah,  I  do  like  a  high  lady!  " 

Our  Annie  looked  rather  queer  at  this,  having  no  pretensions 
to  be  one:  but  she  conquered  herself,  and  said,  "Yes,  Tom; 
and  many  of  them  liked  you." 

With  tliis,  Tom  u(!nt  on  the  brag  at  once,  being  but  a  shallow 
fellow,  and  not  of  settled  principles,  tliough  steadier  than  ho 
used  to  be;  until  T  felt  myself  almost  bdund  to  fetcli  biiu  back 

VOL.  II.  —  12 


178  LORN  A   BOONE. 

a  little ;  for  of  all  things  I  do  hate  brag  the  most,  as  any  reader 
of  this  tale  must  by  this  time  know.  Therefore  I  said  to 
Squire  Faggus,  "Come  back  from  your  highway  days.  You 
have  married  the  daughter  of  an  honest  man ;  and  such  talk  is 
not  fit  for  her.  If  you  were  right  in  robbing  people,  I  am 
right  in  robbing  you.  I  could  bind  you  to  your  own  mantel- 
piece, as  you  know  thoroughly  well,  Tom;  and  drive  away 
with  your  own  horses,  and  all  your  goods  behind  them,  but  for 
the  sense  of  honesty.  And  should  I  not  do  as  fine  a  thing  as 
any  you  did  on  the  highway?  If  every  thing  is  of  public  right, 
how  does  this  chair  belong  to  you?  Clever  as  you  are,  Tom 
Faggus,  you  are  nothing  but  a  fool  to  mix  your  felony  with 
your  farmership.  Drop  the  one,  or  drop  the  other;  you  can- 
not maintain  them  both." 

As  I  finished  very  sternly  a  speech  which  had  exhausted  me 
more  than  ten  rounds  of  wrestling  —  but  I  was  carried  away 
by  the  truth,  as  sometimes  happens  to  all  of  us  —  Tom  had  not 
a  word  to  say;  albeit  his  mind  was  so  much  more  nimble  and 
rapid  than  ever  mine  was.  He  leaned  against  the  mantel-piece 
(a  newly-invented  affair  in  his  house)  as  if  I  had  corded  him 
to  it,  even  as  I  spoke  of  doing.  And  he  laid  one  hand  oia  his 
breast,  in  a  way  which  made  Annie  creep  softly  to  him,  and 
look  at  me  not  like  a  sister. 

"  You  have  done  me  good,  John, "  he  said  at  last,  and  the 
hand  he  gave  me  was  trembling :  "  there  is  no  other  man  on 
God's  earth  would  have  dared  to  speak  to  me  as  you  have  done. 
From  no  other  would  I  have  taken  it.  Nevertheless  every  word 
is  true ;  and  I  shall  dwell  on  it  when  you  are  gone.  If  you 
never  did  good  in  your  life  before,  John,  my  brother,  you  have 
done  it  now." 

He  turned  away  in  bitter  pain,  that  none  might  see  his 
trouble :  and  Annie  going  along  with  him,  looked  as  if  I  had 
killed  our  mother.  For  my  part  I  was  so  upset,  for  fear  of 
having  gone  too  far,  that  without  a  word  to  either  of  them,  but 
a  message  on  the  title-page  of  King  James  his  Prayer-book,  I 
saddled  Kickums,  and  was  off,  and  glad  of  the  moorland  air 
again. 


THEREFORE  HE  SEEKS  COMFORT.  179 

CHAPTER  LXI. 

THEREFORE    HE    SEEKS    COMFORT. 

It  was  for  poor  Annie's  sake,  that  I  had  spoken  my  mind  to 
her  husband  so  freely,  and  even  harshly.  For  we  all  knew 
she  would  break  her  heart,  if  Tom  took  to  evil  ways  again. 
And  the  right  mode  of  preventing  this  was,  not  to  coax,  and 
flatter,  and  make  a  hero  of  him  (which  he  did  for  himself, 
quite  sufficiently),  but  to  set  before  him  the  folly  of  the  thing, 
and  the  ruin  to  his  own  interests. 

They  would  both  be  vexed  Avith  me,  of  course,  for  having 
left  them  so  hastily,  and  especially  just  before  dinner-time; 
but  that  would  soon  wear  off;  and  most  likely  they  would  come 
to  see  mother,  and  tell  her  that  I  was  hard  to  manage,  and 
they  could  feel  for  her  about  it. 

Now  with  a  certain  yearning,  I  know  not  what,  for  softness, 
and  for  one  who  could  understand  me  —  for  simple  as  a  child 
though  being,  I  found  few  to  do  that  last,  at  any  rate  in  my 
love-time  —  I  relied  upon  Kickums'  strength  to  take  me  round 
by  Dulverton.  It  would  make  the  journey  some  eight  miles 
longer,  but  what  was  that  to  a  brisk  young  horse,  even  with 
my  weight  upon  him?  And  having  left  Squire  Faggus,  and 
Annie,  much  sooner  than  had  been  intended,  I  had  plenty  of 
time  before  me,  and  too  much,  ere  ever  a  prospect  of  dinner. 
Therefore  I  struck  to  the  right,  across  the  hills,  for  Dulverton. 

Pretty  Ruth  was  in  the  main  street  of  the  town,  with  a 
basket  in  her  hand,  going  home  from  the  market. 

"Wliy,  Cousin  Ruth,  you  are  grown,"  I  exclaimed;  "I  do 
believe  you  are,  Ruth.  And  you  were  almost  too  tall, 
already. " 

At  this  the  little  thing  was  so  pleased,  that  she  smiled 
through  her  blushes  beautifully,  and  must  needs  come  to  shake 
hands  with  me;  though  I  signed  to  her  not  to  do  it,  because 
of  my  horse's  temper.  But  scarcely  was  her  hand  in  mine, 
when  Kickums  turned  like  an  eel  upon  her,  and  caught  her  by 
the  left  arm  with  his  teeth,  so  that  she  screamed  with  agony. 
I  saw  the  white  of  his  vicious  eye,  and  struck  him  there  with 
all  my  force,  with  my  left  hand  over  her  right  arm,  and  he 
never  used  that  eye  again;  none  the  less  he  kept  his  hold  on 
her.  Then  I  smote  him  again  on  the  jaw,  and  caught  the 
little  maid  up  by  her  right  hand,  and  laid  her  on  the  saddle 


180  LORNA   BOONE. 

in  front  of  me;  while  the  horse  being  giddy  and  staggered 
with  blows,  and  foiled  of  his  spite,  ran  backwards.  Ruth's 
wits  were  gone ;  and  she  lay  before  me  in  such  a  helpless  and 
senseless  way,  that  I  could  have  killed  vile  Kickums.  I 
struck  the  spurs  into  him  past  the  rowels,  and  away  he  went 
at  full  gallop ;  while  I  had  enough  to  do  to  hold  on,  with  the 
little  girl  lying  in  front  of  me.  But  I  called  to  the  men  who 
were  flocking  around,  to  send  up  a  surgeon,  as  quick  as  could 
be,  to  Master  Keuben  Huckaback's. 

The  moment  I  brought  my  right  arm  to  bear,  the  vicious 
horse  had  no  chance  with  me ;  and  if  ever  a  horse  was  well 
paid  for  spite,  Kickums  had  his  change  that  day.  The  bridle 
would  almost  have  held  a  whale,  and  I  drew  on  it  so  that  his 
lower  jaw  was  well-nigh  broken  from  him;  while  with  both 
spurs  I  tore  his  flanks,  and  he  learned  a  little  lesson.  There 
are  times  when  a  man  is  more  vicious  than  any  horse  may  vie 
with.  Therefore  by  the  time  we  had  reached  Uncle  Eeuben's 
house  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  bad  horse  was  only  too  happy 
to  stop;  every  string  of  his  body  was  trembling,  and  his  head 
hanging  down  with  impotence.  I  leaped  from  his  back  at 
once,  and  carried  the  maiden  into  her  own  sweet  room. 

Now  Cousin  Ruth  was  recovering  softly  from  her  fright  and 
faintness;  and  the  volley  of  the  wind  from  galloping  so  had 
made  her  little  ears  quite  pink,  and  shaken  her  locks  all 
round  her.  But  any  one  who  might  wish  to  see  a  comely 
sight  and  a  moving  one,  need  only  have  looked  at  Ruth 
Huckaback,  when  she  learned  (and  imagined  yet  more  than  it 
was)  the  manner  of  her  little  ride  with  me.  Her  hair  was  of 
hazel-brown,  and  full  of  waving  readiness ;  and  with  no  con- 
cealment of  the  trick,  she  spread  it  over  her  eyes  and  face. 
Being  so  delighted  with  her,  and  so  glad  to  see  her  safe,  I 
kissed  her  through  the  thick  of  it,  as  a  cousin  has  a  right  to 
do;  yea,  and  ought  to  do,  with  gravity. 

"Darling,"  I  said;  "he  has  bitten  you  dreadfully:  show  me 
your  poor  arm,  dear," 

She  pulled  up  her  sleeve  in  the  simplest  manner,  rather  to 
look  at  it  herself,  than  to  show  me  where  the  wound  was. 
Her  sleeve  was  of  dark  blue  Taunton  staple;  and  her  white 
arm  shone,  coming  out  of  it,  as  roiind  and  plump  and  velvety, 
as  a  stalk  of  asparagus,  newly  fetched  out  of  ground.  But 
above  the  curved  soft  elbow,  where  no  room  was  for  one  cross 
word   (according  to  our  proverb^),   three  sad  gashes,   edged 

1  "  A  maid  with  an  elbow  sharp,  or  knee, 
Hath  cross  words  two,  out  of  every  three." 


THEREFOEE  HE  SEEKS   COMFORT.  181 

with  crimson,  spoiled  the  flow  of  the  pearly  flesh.  My  pres- 
ence of  mind  was  lost  altogether ;  and  I  raised  the  poor  sore 
arm  to  my  lips,  both  to  stop  the  bleeding  and  to  take  the 
venom  out,  having  heard  how  wise  it  was,  and  thinking  of  my 
mother.  But  Ruth,  to  my  great  amazement,  drew  away  from 
me  in  bitter  haste,  as  if  I  had  been  inserting,  instead  of  ex- 
tracting poison.  For  the  bite  of  a  horse  is  most  venomous ; 
especially  when  he  sheds  his  teeth ;  and  far  more  to  be  feared 
than  the  bite  of  a  dog,  or  even  of  a  cat.  And  in  my  haste,  I 
had  forgotten  that  Ruth  might  not  know  a  word  about  this, 
and  might  doubt  about  my  meaning,  and  the  warmth  of  my 
osculation.  But  knowing  her  danger,  I  durst  not  heed  her 
childishness,  or  her  feelings. 

"Don't  be  a  fool.  Cousin  Ruth,"  I  said,  catching  her  so  that 
she  could  not  move;  "the  poison  is  soaking  into  you.  Do 
you  think  that  I  do  it  for  pleasure?  " 

The  spread  of  shame  on  her  face  was  such,  when  she  saw 
her  own  misunderstanding,  that  I  was  ashamed  to  look  at  her ; 
and  occupied  myself  with  drawing  all  the  risk  of  glanders 
forth  from  the  white  limb,  hanging  helpless  now,  and  left 
entirely  to  my  will.  Before  I  was  quite  sure  of  having 
wholly  exhausted  suction,  and  when  I  had  made  the  holes  in 
her  arm  like  the  gills  of  a  lamprey,  in  came  the  doctor,  partly 
drunk,  and  in  haste  to  get  through  his  business. 

"Ha,  ha!  I  see,"  he  cried;  "bite  of  a  horse,  they  tell  me. 
Very  poisonous;  must  be  burned  away.  Sally,  the  iron  in 
the  fire.     If  you  have  a  fire,  this  weather." 

"Crave  your  pardon,  good  sir,"  I  said;  for  poor  little  Ruth 
was  fainting  again  at  his  savage  orders :  "  but  my  cousin's 
arm  shall  not  be  burned;  it  is  a  great  deal  too  pretty,  and  I 
have  sucked  all  the  poison  out.  Look,  sir,  how  clean  and 
fresh  it  is." 

"  Bless  my  heart !  And  so  it  is !  No  need  at  all  for  cau- 
terizing. The  epidermis  will  close  over,  and  the  cutis  and 
the  pellis.  Jolm  Ridd,  you  ought  to  have  studied  medicine, 
with  your  healing  powers.  Half  my  virtue  lies  in  touch.  A 
clean  and  wholesome  body,  sir ;  I  have  taught  you  the  Latin 
grammar.  I  leave  you  in  excellent  hands,  my  dear,  and  they 
wait  for  me  at  shovel-board.  Bread  and  water  poultice  cold, 
to  be  renewed,  tribxis  horis.  John  Ridd,  I  was  at  school  with 
you,  and  you  beat  me  very  lamentably,  when  I  tried  to  fight 
with  you.  You  remember  me  not?  It  is  likely  enough:  I 
am  forced  to  take  strong  waters,  John,  from  infirmity  of  the 
liver.  Attend  to  my  directions;  and  I  will  call  again  in  the 
morning." 


182  •  LOBNA   DOONE. 

And  in  that  melancholy  plight,  caring  nothing  for  business, 
went  one  of  the  cleverest  fellows  ever  known  at  Tiverton.  He 
could  write  Latin  verses  a  great  deal  faster  than  I  could  ever 
write  English  prose,  and  nothing  seemed  too  great  for  him. 
We  thought  that  he  would  go  to  Oxford  and  astonish  every 
one,  and  write  in  the  style  of  Buchanan ;  but  he  fell  all  abroad 
very  lamentably ;  and  now,  when  I  met  him  again,  was  come 
down  to  push-pin  and  shovel-board,  with  a  wager  of  spirits 
pending. 

When  Master  Huckaback  came  home,  he  looked  at  me  very 
sulkily ;  not  only  because  of  my  refusal  to  become  a  slave  to 
the  gold-digging,  but  also  because  he  regarded  me  as  the  cause 
of  a  savage  broil,  between  Simon  Carfax  and  the  men  who 
had  cheated  him  as  to  his  Gwenny.  However,  when  Uncle 
Ben  saw  Ruth,  and  knew  what  had  befallen  her,  and  she  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  declared  that  she  owed  her  life  to  Cousin 
Ridd,  the  old  man  became  very  gracious  to  me;  for  if  he 
loved  any  one  ou  earth,  it  was  his  little  grand-daughter. 

I  could  not  stay  very  long,  because,  my  horse  being  quite  un- 
fit to  travel  (from  the  injuries,  which  his  violence  and  vice  had 
brought  upon  him),  there  was  nothing  for  me  but  to  go  on 
foot,  as  none  of  Uncle  Ben's  horses  could  take  me  to  Plover's 
Barrows,  witliout  downright  cruelty :  and  though  there  would 
be  a  harvest-moon,  Euth  agreed  with  me  that  I  must  not  keep 
my  motlier  waiting,  with  no  idea  where  I  might  be,  until  a 
late  hour  of  the  niglit.  I  told  Ruth  all  about  our  Annie, 
and  her  noble  furniture ;  and  the  little  maid  was  very  lively 
(although  her  wounds  were  j)aining  her  so,  that  half  her 
laughter  came  "on  the  wrong  side  of  her  mouth,"  as  we 
rather  coarsely  express  it);  especially  she  laughed  about 
Annie's  new-fangled  closet  for  clothes,  or  standing-press,  as 
she  called  it.  This  had  frightened  me,  so  that  I  would  not 
come  without  my  stick  to  look  at  it;  for  the  front  was  inlaid 
with  two  fiery  dragons,  and  a  glass  which  distorted  everything, 
making  even  Annie  look  hideous;  and  when  it  was  opened,  a 
woman's  skeleton,  all  in  white,  revealed  itself,  in  the  midst 
of  three  standing  Avomen.  "  It  is  only  to  keep  my  best  frocks 
in  shape,"  Annie  had  explained  to  me;  "hanging  them  up 
does  ruin  them  so.  But  I  own  that  I  was  afraid  of  it,  John, 
until  I  had  got  all  my  best  clothes  there,  and  then  I  became 
very  fond  of  it.  But  even  now  it  frightens  me  sometimes  in 
the  moonlight." 

Having  made  poor  Ruth  a  little  cheerful,  with  a  full  account 
of  all  Annie's  frocks,  material,  pattern,  and  fashion  (of  which 


THEREFORE  HE  SEEKS   COMFORT.  183 

I  had  taken  a  list  for  my  mother,  and  for  Lizzie,  lest  they 
should  cry  out  at  man's  stupidity  about  any  thing  of  real 
interest),  I  proceeded  to  tell  her  about  my  own  troubles,  and 
the  sudden  departiire  of  Lorna;  concluding,  with  all  the  show 
of  indifference  which  my  pride  could  muster,  that  now  I  never 
should  see  her  again,  and  must  do  my  best  to  forget  her,  as 
being  so  far  above  me.  I  had  not  intended  to  speak  of  this, 
but  Kuth's  face  was  so  kind  and  earnest,  that  I  could  not  stop 
myself. 

"You  must  not  talk  like  that,  Cousin  Kidd,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  and  gentle  tone,  and  turning  her  eyes  away  from  me ;  "  no 
lady  can  be  above  a  man,  who  is  pure,  and  brave,  and  gentle. 
And  if  her  heart  be  worth  having,  she  will  never  let  you  give 
her  up,  for  her  grandeur,  and  her  nobility." 

She  pronounced  those  last  few  words,  as  I  thought,  with  a 
little  bitterness  unperceived  by  herself  perhaps,  for  it  was  not 
in  her  appearance.  But  I,  attaching  great  importance  to  a 
maiden's  opinion  about  a  maiden  (because  she  might  judge 
from  experience),  would  have  led  her  further  into  that  subject. 
But  she  declined  to  follow,  having  now  no  more  to  say  in  a 
matter  so  removed  from  her.  Then  I  asked  her  full  and 
straight,  and  looking  at  her,  in  such  a  manner,  that  she 
could  not  look  away,  without  appearing  vanquished  by  feel- 
ings of  her  own  —  which  thing  was  very  vile  of  me;  but  all 
men  are  so  seltish, — 

"  Dear  cousin,  tell  me  once  for  all,  what  is  your  advice  to 
me?" 

"My  advice  to  you,"  she  answered  bravely,  with  her  dark 
eyes  full  of  pride,  and  instead  of  flinching,  foiling  me,  —  "  is 
to  do  what  every  man  must  do,  if  he  would  win  fair  maiden. 
Since  she  cannot  send  you  token,  neither  is  free  to  return  to 
you,  follow  her,  pay  your  court  to  her;  show  that  you  will 
not  be  forgotten;  and  perhaps  she  will  look  down  —  I  mean 
she  will  relent  to  you." 

"She  has  nothing  to  relent  about.  I  have  never  vexed  nor 
injured  her.  My  thoughts  have  never  strayed  from  her. 
There  is  no  one  to  compare  with  her." 

"Then  keep  her  in  that  same  mind  about  you.  See  now,  I 
can  advise  no  more.  My  arm  is  swelling  painfully,  in  spite 
of  all  your  goodness,  and  bitter  task  of  surgeonship.  I  shall 
have  another  ])oultice  on,  and  go  to  bed,  I  think.  Cousin  Ridd, 
if  you  will  not  hold  me  ungrateful.  I  am  so  sorry  for  your 
long  walk.  Surely  it  might  be  avoided.  Give  my  love  to 
dear  Lizzie:  oh,  the  room  is  going  round  so!  " 


184  LORNA   BOONE. 

And  she  fainted  into  the  arms  of  Sally,  who  was  come  just 
in  time  to  fetch  her :  no  doubt  she  had  been  suffering  agony, 
all  the  time  she  talked  to  me.  Leaving  word  that  I  would 
come  again  to  inquire  for  her,  and  fetch  Kickums  home,  so 
soon  as  the  harvest  permitted  me,  I  gave  directions  about  the 
horse,  and  striding  away  from  the  ancient  town,  was  soon 
upon  the  moorlands. 

Now,  through  the  whole  of  that  long  walk  —  the  latter  part 
of  which  was  led  by  starlight,  till  the  moon  arose  —  I  dwelt, 
in  my  young  and  foolish  way,  upon  the  ordering  of  our  steps 
by  a  Power  beyond  us.  But  as  I  could  not  bring  my  mind  to 
any  clearness  upon  this  matter,  and  the  stars  shed  no  light 
upon  it,  but  rather  confused  me  with  wondering  how  their 
Lord  could  attend  to  all  of  them,  and  yet  to  a  puny  fool  like 
me,  it  came  to  pass  that  my  thoughts  on  the  subject  were  not 
worth  ink,  if  I  knew  them. 

But  it  is  perhaps  worth  ink  to  relate,  so  far  as  I  can  do  so, 
mother's  delight  at  my  return,  when  she  had  almost  abandoned 
hope,  and  concluded  that  I  was  gone  to  London,  in  disgust  at 
her  behavior.  And  now  she  was  looking  up  the  lane,  at  the 
rise  of  the  harvest-moon,  in  despair,  as  she  said  afterwards. 
But  if  she  had  despaired  in  truth,  what  use  to  look  at  all? 
Yet,  according  to  the  epigram  made  by  a  good  Blundellite, — 

' '  Despair  was  never  yet  so  deep 
In  sinking,  as  in  seeming  ; 
Despair  is  liope  just  dropp'd  asleep, 
For  better  chance  of  dreaming." 

And  mother's  dream  was  a  happy  one,  when  she  knew  my 
step  at  a  furlong  distant;  for  the  night  was  of  those  that 
carry  sounds,  thrice  as  far  as  day  can.  She  recovered  herself 
when  she  was  sure,  and  even  made  up  her  mind  to  scold  me, 
and  felt  as  if  she  could  do  it.  But  when  she  was  in  my  arms, 
into  which  she  threw  herself,  and  I  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
descried  the  silver  gleam  on  one  side  of  her  head  (now  spread- 
ing since  Annie's  departure),  bless  my  heart,  and  yours  there- 
with, no  room  was  left  for  scolding.  She  hugged  me,  and  she 
clung  to  me;  and  I  looked  at  her,  with  duty  made  tenfold, 
and  discharged  by  love.  We  said  nothing  to  one  another; 
but  all  was  right  between  us. 

Even  Lizzie  behaved  very  well,  so  far  as  her  nature  ad- 
mitted; not  even  saying  a  nasty  thing,  all  the  time  she  was 
getting  my  supper  ready,  with  a  weak  imitation  of  Annie. 
She  knew  that  the  gift  of  cooking  was  not  vouchsafed  by  God 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PRAYED  FOR.  185 

to  her;  but  sometimes  she  would  do  her  best,  by  intellect,  to 
win  it.  Whereas  it  is  no  more  to  be  won  by  intellect,  than  is 
divine  poetry.  An  amount  of  strong  quick  heart  is  needful, 
and  the  understanding  must  second  it,  in  the  one  art  as  in  the 
other,  Now  my  fare  was  very  choice  for  the  next  three  days 
or  more;  yet  not  turned  out  like  Annie's.  They  could  do  a 
thing  well  enough  on  the  fire;  but  they  could  not  put  it  on 
table  so;  nor  even  have  plates  all  piping  hot.  This  was 
Annie's  special  gift;  born  in  her,  and  ready  to  cool  with  her; 
like  a  plate  borne  away  from  the  fire-place.  I  sighed  some- 
times about  Lorna;  and  they  thought  it  was  about  the  plates. 

And  mother  would  stand  and  look  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  No  pleasing  him : "  and  Lizzie  would  jerk  up  one  shoulder, 
and  cry,  "  He  had  better  have  Lorna  to  cook  tor  him : "  while 
the  whole  truth  w^as  that  I  wanted  not  to  be  plagued  about 
any  cookery;  but  just  to  have  something  good  and  quiet,  and 
then  smoke,  and  think  about  Lorna. 

Nevertheless  the  time  went  on,  with  one  change  and  an- 
other ;  and  we  gathered  all  our  harvest  in ;  and  Parson  Bowden 
thanked  God  for  it,  both  in  church  and  out  of  it;  for  his  tithes 
would  be  very  goodly.  The  unmatched  cold  of  the .  previous 
winter,  and  general  fear  of  scarcity,  and  our  own  talk  about 
our  ruin,  had  sent  prices  up  to  a  grand  high  pitch;  and  we 
did  our  best  to  keep  them  there.  For  nine  Englishmen  out  of 
every  ten  believe  that  a  bitter  winter  must  breed  a  sour  sum- 
mer, and  explain  away  topmost  prices.  While  according  to 
my  experience,  more  often  it  would  be  otherwise,  except  for 
the  public  thinking  so.  However,  I  have  said  too  much;  and 
if  any  farmer  reads  my  book,  he  will  vow  that  I  wrote  it  for 
nothing  else  except  to  rob  his  family. 


CHAPTER   LXII. 

THE    KING    MUST    NOT    BE    PRAYED    FOR. 

All  our  neighborhood  was  surprised,  that  the  Doones  had 
not  ere  now  attacked,  and  proba])ly  made  an  end  of  us.  For 
we  lay  almost  at  their  mercy  now,  having  only  Serjeant  Plox- 
ham,  and  three  men,  to  protect  us.  Captain  Stickles  having 
been  ordered  southwards  witli  all  liis  force,  except  sucli  as 
might  be  needful  for  collecting  toll,  and  watching  the  imports 
at  Lynmouth,  and  thence  to  Porlock.     The  Serjeant,  having 


186  LORNA   DOONE. 

now  imbibed  a  taste  for  writing  reports  (though  his  first  great 
effort  had  done  him  no  good,  and  only  offended  Stickles), 
reported  weekly  from  Plover's  Barrows,  whenever  he  could 
find  a  messenger.  And  though  we  fed  not  Serjeant  Bloxham 
at  our  own  table,  with  the  best  we  had  (as  in  the  case  of  Stick- 
les, who  represented  His  Majesty),  yet  we  treated  him  so  well, 
that  he  reported  very  highly  of  us,  as  loyal  and  true-hearted 
lieges,  and  most  devoted  to  our  lord  the  King.  And  indeed 
he  could  scarcely  have  done  less,  when  Lizzie  wrote  great 
part  of  his  reports,  and  furbished  up  the  rest  to  such  a  pitch 
of  lustre,  that  Lord  Clarendon  himself  need  scarce  have  been 
ashamed  of  them.  And  though  this  cost  a  great  deal  of  ale, 
and  even  of  strong  waters  (for  Lizzie  would  have  it  the  duty 
of  a  critic  to  stand  treat  to  the  author),  and  though  it  was 
otherwise  a  plague,  as  giving  the  maid  such  airs  of  patronage, 
and  such  pretence  to  politics;  yet  there  was  no  stopping  it, 
without  the  risk  of  mortal  offence  to  both  writer  and  reviewer. 
Our  mother  also,  while  disapproving  Lizzie's  long  stay  in  the 
saddle-room  on  a  Friday  night  and  a  Saturday,  and  insisting 
that  Betty  should  be  there,  was  nevertheless  as  proud  as  need 
be,  that  the  King  should  read  our  Eliza's  writing  —  at  least 
so  the  innocent  soul  believed  —  and  we  all  looked  forward  to 
something  great,  as  the  fruit  of  all  this  history.  And  some- 
thing great  did  come  of  it,  though  not  as  we  expected;  for 
these  reports,  or  as  many  of  them  as  were  ever  opened,  stood 
us  in  good  stead  the  next  year,  when  we  were  accused  of  har- 
boring and  comforting  guilty  rebels. 

Now  the  reason,  why  the  Doones  did  not  attack  us,  was  that 
they  were  preparing  to  meet  another,  and  more  powerful  as- 
sault, upon  their  fortress;  being  assured  that  their  repulse  of 
King's  troops  could  not  be  looked  over  when  brought  before 
the  authorities.  And  no  doubt  they  were  right;  for  although 
the  conflicts  in  the  government  during  that  summer,  and 
autumn,  had  delayed  the  matter,  yet  positive  orders  had  been 
issued,  that  these  outlaws  and  malefactors  should  at  any  price 
be  brought  to  justice;  when  the  sudden  death  of  King  Charles 
the  Second  threw  all  things  into  confusion,  and  all  minds 
into  a  panic. 

We  heard  of  it  first  in  church,  on  Sunday,  the  eighth  day 
of  February,  1684-5,  from  a  cousin  of  John  Fry,  who  had 
ridden  over  on  purpose  from  Porlock.  He  came  in  just  before 
the  anthem,  splashed  and  heated  from  his  ride,  so  that  every 
one  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He  wanted  to  create  a  stir 
(knowing  how  much  would  be  made  of  him),  and  he  took  the 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PRAYED   FOE.  187 

best  way  to  do  it.  For  he  let  the  anthem  go  by  very  quietly 
—  or  rather  I  should  say  very  pleasingly,  for  our  choir  was 
exceedingly  proud  of  itself,  and  I  sang  bass  twice  as  loud  as 
a  bull,  to  beat  the  clerk  with  the  clarionet  —  and  then  just 
as  Parson  Bowden,  with  a  look  of  pride  at  his  minstrels,  was 
kneeling  down  to  begin  the  prayer  for  the  King's  Most  Excel- 
lent Majesty  (for  he  never  read  the  Litany,  except  upon 
Easter  Sunday),  up  jumps  young  Sam  Fry,  and  shouts, — 

"  I  forbid  that  there  prai-er." 

"What!"  cried  the  parson,  rising  slowly,  and  looking  for 
some  one  to  shut  the  door :  "  have  we  a  rebel  in  the  congrega- 
tion? "  For  the  parson  was  growing  skort-sjghted  now,  and 
knew  not  Sam  Fry  at  that  distance. 

"Xo,"  replied  Sam,  not  a  Avhit  abashed  by  the  staring  of  all 
the  parish;  "no  rebel,  parson;  but  a  man  who  mislaiketh 
popery  and  murder.  That  there  prai-er  be  a  prai-er  for  the 
dead." 

"Nay,"  cried  the  parson,  now  recognizing  and  knowing  him 
to  be  our  John's  first  cousin,  "you  do  not  mean  to  say,  Sam, 
that  His  Gracious  Majesty  is  dead." 

"Dead  as  a  sto-un:  poisoned  by  they  Papishers."  And 
Sam  rubbed  his  hands  with  enjoyment,  at  the  effect  he  had 
produced. 

"Remember  where  you  are,  Sam,"  said  Parson  Bowden, 
solemnly;  "when  did  this  most  sad  thing  happen?  The  King 
is  the  head  of  the  Church,  Sam  Fry;  when  did  His  Majesty 
leave  her?" 

"Day  afore  yesterday.  Twelve  o'clock.  Warn't  us  quick 
to  hear  of  'un?  " 

"Can't  be,"  said  the  minister:  "the  tidings  can  never  have 
come  so  soon.  Anyhow,  he  will  want  it  all  the  more.  Let 
us  pray  for  His  Gracious  INIajesty." 

And  with  that  he  proceeded  as  usual;  but  nobody  cried 
"Amen,"  for  fear  of  being  entangled  with  popery.  But  after 
giving  forth  his  text,  our  parson  said  a  few  words  out  of  book, 
about  tlie  many  virtues  of  His  Majesty,  and  self-denial,  and 
devotion,  comparing  his  pious  mirth  to  the  dancing  of  the 
Y)atriarch  David  l)efore  tlie  ai'k  of  tlie  covenant;  and  he  added, 
with  some  severity,  that  if  his  flock  would  not  join  their  pas- 
tor (who  was  much  more  likely  to  judge  ariglit)  in  praying 
for  tlie  King,  the  least  tliey  could  do,  on  returning  home,  was 
to  pray  that  the  King  might  not  be  dead,  as  his  enemies  had 
asserted. 

Now  when  the  service  was  over,  we  killed  the  King,  and 


188  LORN  A  BOONE. 

we  brought  him  to  life,  at  least  fifty  times  in  the  churchyard: 
and  Sam  Fry  was  mounted  on  a  high  gravestone,  to  tell  every 
one  all  he  knew  of  it.  But  he  knew  no  more  than  he  had 
told  us  in  the  church,  as  before  repeated :  upon  which  we  were 
much  disappointed  with  him,  and  inclined  to  disbelieve  him: 
until  he  happily  remembered  that  His  Majesty  had  died  in 
great  pain,  with  blue  spots  on  his  breast,  and  black  spots  all 
across  his  back,  and  these  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  by  reason 
of  papists  having  poisoned  him.  When  Sam  called  this  to  his 
remembrance  (or  to  his  imagination)  he  was  overwhelmed,  at 
once,  with  so  many  invitations  to  dinner,  that  he  scarce  knew 
which  of  them  to  accept;  but  decided  in  our  favor. 

Grieving  much  for  the  loss  of  the  King,  however  greatly  it 
might  be  (as  the  parson  had  declared  it  was,  while  telling 
us  to  pray  against  it)  for  the  royal  benefit,  I  resolved  to  ride 
to  Porlock  myself,  directly  after  dinner,  and  make  sure 
whether  he  were  dead,  or  not.  For  it  was  not  by  any  means 
hard  to  suppose  that  Sam  Fry,  being  John's  first  cousin,  might 
have  inherited  (either  from  grandfather  or  grandmother)  some 
of  those  gifts  which  had  made  our  John  so  famous  for  men- 
dacity. At  Porlock,  I  found  that  it  was  too  true;  and  the 
women  of  the  town  were  in  great  distress,  for  the  King  had 
always  been  popular  with  them :  the  men,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  forecasting  what  would  be  likely  to  ensue. 

And  I  myself  was  of  this  number,  riding  sadly  home  again ; 
although  bound  to  the  King,  as  churchwarden  now;  which 
dignity,  next  to  the  parson's  in  rank,  is  with  us  (as  it  ought 
to  be  in  every  good  parish)  hereditary.  For  who  can  stick 
to  the  church  like  the  man  whose  father  stuck  to  it  before 
him;  and  who  knows  all  the  little  ins,  and  great  outs,  which 
must  in  these  troublous  times  come  across? 

But  though  appointed  at  last,  by  virtue  of  being  best  farmer 
in  the  parish  (as  well  as  by  vice  of  mismanagement,  on  the 
part  of  my  mother,  and  iSTicholas  Snowe,  who  had  thoroughly 
muxed  up  everything,  being  too  quick-headed),  yet,  while  I 
dwelled  with  pride  upon  the  fact  that  I  stood  in  the  King's 
shoes,  as  the  manager  and  promoter  of  the  Church  of  England 
—  and  I  knew  that  we  must  miss  His  Majesty  (whose  arms 
were  above  the  Commandments),  as  the  leader  of  our  thoughts 
in  church,  and  handsome  upon  a  guinea  —  nevertheless  I  kept 
on  thinking  how  his  death  would  act  on  me. 

And  here  I  saw  it,  many  ways.  In  the  first  place,  troubles 
must  break  out;  and  we  had  eight-and-twenty  ricks;  counting 
grain,  and  straw,  and  hay.      Moreover  mother  was  growing 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PEAYEB  FOR.  189 

weak  about  riots,  and  shooting,  and  burning;  and  she  gathered 
the  bed-clothes  around  her  ears  every  night,  wlien  her  feet  were 
tucked  up ;  and  prayed  not  to  awake  until  morning.  In  the 
next  place,  much  rebellion  (though  we  would  not  own  it,  in 
either  sense  of  the  verb,  to  "  own  ")  was  whispering,  and  pluck- 
ing skirts,  and  making  signs,  among  us.  And  the  terror  of  the 
Doones  helped  greatly;  as  a  fruitful  tree  of  lawlessness,  and 
a  good  excuse  for  every  body.  And  after  this  —  or  rather 
before  it,  and  hrst  of  all  indeed  (if  I  must  state  the  true  order) 
—  arose  upon  me  the  thought  of  Lorna,  and  how  these  things 
would  affect  her  fate. 

And  indeed  I  must  admit  that  it  had  occurred  to  me  some- 
times, or  been  suggested  by  others,  that  the  Lady  Lorna  had 
not  behaved  altogether  kindly,  since  her  departure  from  among 
us.  For  although  in  those  days  the  post  (as  we  call  the  ser- 
vice of  letter-carrying,  which  now  comes  within  twenty  miles 
of  us)  did  not  extend  to  our  part  of  the  world,  yet  it  might 
have  been  possible  to  procure  for  hire  a  man  who  would  ride 
post,  if  Lorna  feared  to  trust  the  pack-horses,  or  the  troopers, 
who  went  to  and  fro.  Yet  no  message  whatever  had  reached 
us ;  neither  any  token  even  of  her  safety  in  London.  As  to 
this  last,  however,  we  had  no  misgivings,  having  learned  from 
the  orderlies,  more  than  once,  that  the  wealth,  and  beauty,  and 
adventures  of  young  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,  were  greatly  talked 
of  both  at  court,  and  among  the  common  people. 

Now  riding  sadly  homewards,  in  the  sunset  of  the  early 
spring,  I  was  more  than  ever  touched  with  sorrow,  and  a  sense 
of  being,  as  it  were,  abandoned.  And  the  weather  growing 
quite  beautiful,  and  so  mild  that  the  trees  were  budding,  and 
the  cattle  full  of  happiness,  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  differ- 
ence between  the  world  of  to-day  and  the  world  of  this  day 
twelvemonth.  Then  all  was  howling  desolation,  all  the  earth 
blocked  up  with  snow,  and  all  tlie  air  with  barbs  of  ice  as  small 
as  splintered  needles,  yet  glittering,  in  and  out,  like  stars,  and 
gathering  so  upon  a  man  (if  long  he  stayed  among  them)  that 
they  began  to  weigh  him  down  to  sleepiness  and  frozen  death. 
Not  a  sign  of  life  was  moving,  nor  was  any  change  of  view; 
unless  the  wild  wind  struck  the  crest  of  some  cold  drift,  and 
bowed  it. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  all  was  good.  The  open  palm  of 
spring  was  laid  upon  the  yielding  of  the  hills;  and  each  par- 
ticular valley  seemed  to  be  tlie  glove  for  a  finger.  And  altliough 
tlic  sun  was  low,  and  dip])ing  in  tlie  western  clouds,  the  gray 
light  of  the  sea  came  up,  and  took,  and  taking,  told  the  special 


190  LORNA   DOONE. 

tone  of  every  thing.  All  this  lay  upon  my  heart,  without  a 
word  of  thinking,  spreading  light  and  shadow  there,  and  the 
soft  delight  of  sadness.  Nevertheless,  I  would  it  were  the 
savage  snow  around  me,  and  the  piping  of  the  restless  winds, 
and  the  death  of  everything.     For  in  those  days  I  had  Lorna. 

Then  I  thought  of  promise  fair;  such  as  glowed  around  me, 
where  the  red  rocks  held  the  su.n,  when  he  was  departed ;  and 
the  distant  crags  endeavored  to  retain  his  memory.  But  as 
evening  spread  across  them,  shading  with  a  silent  fold,  all  the 
color  stole  away;  all  remembrance  waned,  and  died. 

"So  has  it  been  with  love,"  I  thought,  "and  with  simple 
truth  and  warmth.  The  maid  has  chosen  the  glittering  stars, 
instead  of  the  plain  daylight." 

Nevertheless  I  would  not  give  in,  although  in  deep  despond- 
ency (especially  when  I  passed  the  place  where  my  dear  father 
had  fought  in  vain),  and  I  tried  to  see  things  right,  and  then 
judge  aright  about  them.  This,  however,  was  more  easy  to 
attempt  than  to  achieve;  and  by  the  time  I  came  down  the 
hill,  I  was  none  the  wiser.  Only  I  could  tell  my  mother  that 
the  King  was  dead  for  sure;  and  she  would  have  tried  to  cry, 
but  for  thought  of  her  mourning. 

There  was  not  a  moment  for  lamenting.  All  the  mourning 
must  be  ready  (if  we  cared  to  beat  the  Snowes)  in  eight-and- 
forty  hours:  and  although  it  was  Sunday  night,  mother  now 
feeling  sure  of  the  thing,  sat  up  with  Lizzie,  cutting  patterns, 
and  stitching  things  on  brown  paper,  and  snipping,  and  laying 
the  fashions  down,  and  requesting  all  opinions,  yet  when  given 
scorning  them ;  insomuch  that  I  grew  weary  even  of  tobacco 
(which  had  comforted  me  since  Lorna),  and  prayed  her  to  go 
on,  until  the  King  should  be  alive  again. 

The  thought  of  that  so  flurried  her  —  for  she  never  yet  could 
see  a  joke  —  that  she  laid  her  scissors  on  the  table,  and  said, 
"The  Lord  forbid,  John!  after  what  I  have  cut  up!  " 

"It  would  be  just  like  him,"  I  answered,  with  a  knowing 
smile :  "  Mother,  you  had  better  stop.  Patterns  may  do  very 
well;  but  don't  cut  up  any  more  good  stuff." 

"  Well,  good  lack,  I  am  a  fool !  Three  tables  pegged  with 
needles !  The  Lord  in  His  mercy  keep  His  Majesty,  if  ever 
He  hath  gotten  him !  " 

By  this  device  we  went  to  bed;  and  not  another  stitch  was 
si;ruck,  until  the  troopers  had  office-tidings  that  the  King  was 
■cruly  dead.  Hence  the  Snowes  beat  us  by  a  day ;  and  both  old 
iaetty  and  Lizzie  laid  the  blame  upon  me,  as  usual. 

Almost  before  we  had  put  off  the  mourning,  which  as  loyal 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PRAYED  FOR.  191 

subjects  we  kept  for  the  King,  three  months  and  a  week ;  rumors 
of  disturbances,  of  plottings,  and  of  outbreak  began  to  stir 
among  us.  We  heard  of  fighting  in  Scotland,  and  buying  of 
ships  on  the  continent,  and  of  arms  in  Dorset  and  Somerset; 
and  we  kept  our  beacon  in  readiness  to  give  signals  of  a  land- 
ing; or  rather  the  soldiers  did  so.  For  we,  having  trustworthy 
reports  that  the  new  King  had  been  to  high  mass  himself  in  the 
Abbey  of  Westminster,  making  all  the  bishops  go  Avith  him, 
and  all  the  guards  in  London,  and  then  tortured  all  the  Protes- 
tants who  dared  to  wait  outside,  moreover  had  received  from 
the  Pope  a  flower  grown  in  the  Virgin  Mary's  garden,  and 
warranted  to  last  for  ever,  we  of  the  moderate  party,  hearing 
all  this  and  ten  times  as  much,  and  having  no  love  for  this 
sour  James,  such  as  we  had  for  the  lively  Charles,  were  ready 
to  wait  for  what  might  happen,  rather  than  care  about  stopping 
it.  Therefore  we  listened  to  rumors  gladly,  and  shook  our 
heads  with  gravity,  and  predicted,  every  man  something,  but 
scarce  any  two  the  same.  Nevertheless,  in  our  part,  things 
went  on  as  usual,  until  the  middle  of  June  was  nigh.  We 
ploughed  the  ground,  and  sowed  the  corn,  and  tended  the  cattle, 
and  heeded  every  one  his  neighbor's  business,  as  carefully  as 
heretofore;  and  the  only  thing  that  moved  us  much  was  that 
Annie  had  a  baby.  This  being  a  very  fine  child  with  blue 
eyes,  and  christened  "  John  "  in  compliment  to  me,  and  with 
me  for  his  godfather,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  I  thought  a 
good  deal  about  him;  and  when  mother  or  Lizzie  would  ask 
me,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  treacherously,  when  the  fire  flared  up 
at  supper-time  (for  we  always  kept  a  little  wood  just  alight  in 
summer-time,  and  enough  to  make  the  pot  boil),  then  when  they 
would  say  to  me,  "John,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  At  a 
word,  speak ! "  I  would  always  answer,  "  Little  John  Fag- 
gus; "  and  so  they  made  no  more  of  me. 

But  when  I  was  down,  on  Saturday  the  thirteenth  of  June, 
at  the  blacksmith's  forge  by  Brendon  town,  where  the  Lynn- 
stream  runs  so  close  that  he  dips  his  horse-shoes  in  it,  and 
where  the  news  is  apt  to  come  first  of  all  our  neighborhood 
(except  upon  a  Sunday),  while  we  were  talking  of  the  hay -crop, 
and  of  a  great  sheep-stealer,  round  the  corner  came  a  man  upon 
a  pie-bald  horse,  looking  flagged  and  weary.  But  seeing  half- 
a-dozen  of  us,  young,  and  brisk,  and  hearty,  he  made  a  flourisli 
with  his  horse,  and  waved  a  blue  flag  vehemently,  shouting 
with  great  glory  — 

"  Monmouth,  and  the  Protestant  faith !  Monmouth,  and  no 
Popery !     Monmouth,  the  good  King's  eldest  son!     Down  with 


192  LORNA  BOONE. 

the  poisoning  murderer!     Down  with  the  black  usurper,  and 
to  the  devil  with  all  papists !  " 

"Why  so,  thou  little  varlet?"  I  asked  very  quietly;  for  the 
man  was  too  small  to  quarrel  with:  yet  knowing  Lorna  to  be 
a  "papist,"  as  we  choose  to  call  them  —  though  they  might  as 
well  call  us  "kingists,"  after  the  head  of  our  Church  —  I 
thought  that  this  scurvy  scampish  knave  might  show  them  the 
way  to  the  place  he  mentioned,  unless  his  courage  failed  him. 

"Papist  yourself,  be  you?"  said  the  fellow,  not  daring  to 
answer  much:  "then  take  this,  and  read  it." 

And  he  handed  me  a  long  rigmarole,  which  he  called  a 
"  Declaration :  "  I  saw  that  it  was  but  a  heap  of  lies,  and  thrust 
it  into  the  blacksmith's  fire,  and  blew  the  bellows  thrice  at  it. 
No  one  dared  attempt  to  stop  me,  for  my  mood  had  not  been 
sweet  of  late, ;  and  of  course  they  knew  my  strength. 

The  man  rode  on  with  a  muttering  noise,  having  won  no 
recruits  from  us,  by  force  of  my  example;  and  he  stopped  at 
the  alehouse  further  down,  where  the  road  goes  away  from  the 
Lynn-stream.  Some  of  us  went  thither  after  a  time,  when  our 
horses  were  shodden  and  rasped,  for  although  we  might  not 
like  the  man,  we  might  be  glad  of  his  tidings,  which  seemed 
to  be  something  wonderful.  He  had  set  xq)  his  blue  flag  in  the 
tap-room,  and  was  teaching  every  one. 

"Here  coom'th  Maister  Jan  Ridd,"  said  the  landlady,  being 
well  pleased  with  the  call  for  beer  and  cider;  "her  hath  been 
to  Lunnon-town,  and  live  within  a  maile  of  me.  Arl  the  news 
coom  from  them  now-a-days,  instead  of  from  here,  as  her  ought 
to  do.  If  Jan  Ridd  say  it  be  true,  I  will  try  a'most  to  belave 
it.  Hath  the  good  Duke  landed,  sir?"  And  she  looked  at 
me  over  a  foaming  cup,  and  blew  the  froth  off,  and  put  more  in. 

"I  have  no  doubt  it  is  true  enough,"  I  answered,  before 
drinking;  "and  too  true.  Mistress  Pugsley.  Many  a  poor 
man  will  die ;  but  none  shall  die  from  our  parish,  nor  from 
Brendon,  if  I  can  help  it." 

And  I  knew  that  I  could  help  it :  for  every  one  in  those  little 
places  would  abide  by  my  advice ;  not  only  from  the  fame  of 
my  schooling,  and  long  sojourn  in  London,  but  also  because  I 
had  earned  repute  for  being  very  "slow  and  sure:"  and  with 
nine  people  out  of  ten  this  is  the  very  best  recommendation. 
For  they  think  themselves  much  before  you  in  wit,  and  under 
no  obligation,  but  rather  conferring  a  favor,  by  doing  the  thing 
that  you  do.  Hence,  if  I  cared  for  influence  —  Avhich  means, 
for  the  most  part,  making  people  do  one's  will,  without  know- 
ing it  —  my  first  step  toward  it  would  be  to  be  called,  in 
common  parlance,   "slow  but  sure." 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PRAYED  FOR.  193 

For  the  next  fortnight,  we  were  daily  troubled  Avith  conflict- 
ing rumors,  each  man  relating  what  he  desired,  rather  than 
what  he  had  right,  to  believe.  We  were  told  that  the  Duke 
had  been  proclaimed  King  of  England,  in  every  town  of  Dorset 
and  of  Somerset ;  that  he  had  won  a  great  battle  at  Axminster, 
and  another  at  Bridport,  and  another  somewhere  else ;  that  all 
the  western  counties  had  risen  as  one  man  for  him,  and  all  the 
militia  joined  his  ranks ;  that  Taunton,  and  Bridgewater,  and 
Bristowe,  were  all  mad  with  delight,  the  two  former  being  in 
his  hands,  and  the  latter  craving  to  be  so.  And  then,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  heard  that  the  Duke  had  been  vanquished,  and 
put  to  flight,  and  upon  being  apprehended  had  confessed  him- 
self an  impostor,  and  a  papist,  as  bad  as  the  King  was. 

We  longed  for  Colonel  Stickles  (as  he  always  became  in  time 
of  war,  though  he  fell  back  to  Captain,  and  even  Lieiitenant, 
directly  the  light  was  over),  for  then  we  should  have  won  trusty 
news,  as  well  as  good  consideration.  But  even  Serjeant  Blox- 
ham,  much  against  his  will,  was  gone,  having  left  his  heart  with 
our  Lizzie,  and  a  collection  of  all  his  writings.  All  the  soldiers 
had  been  ordered  away  at  full  speed  for  Exeter,  to  join  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle,  or  if  he  were  gone,  to  follow  him.  As  for 
us,  who  had  fed  them  so  long  (although  not  quite  for  nothing), 
we  must  take  our  chance  of  Doones,  or  any  other  enemies. 

Now  all  these  tidings  moved  me  a  little ;  not  enough  to  spoil 
appetite,  but  enough  to  make  things  lively,  and  to  teach  me 
that  look  of  wisdom,  which  is  bred  of  practice  only,  and  the 
hearing  of  many  lies.  Therefore  I  withheld  my  judgment, 
fearing  to  be  triumphed  over,  if  it  should  happen  to  miss  the 
mark.  But  mother,  and  Lizzie,  ten  times  in  a  day,  predicted  all 
they  could  imagine ;  and  their  prophecies  increased  iu  strength, 
according  to  contradiction.  Yet  this  was  not  in  the  proper 
style  for  a  house  like  ours,  which  knew  the  news,  or  at  least 
had  known  it ;  and  still  was  famous,  all  around,  for  the  last 
advices.  Even  from  Lynmouth,  people  sent  up  to  Plover's 
Barrows,  to  ask  how  things  were  going  on;  and  it  was  very 
grievous  to  answer,  that  in  truth  we  knew  not,  neither  had 
heard  for  days  and  days;  and  our  reputation  was  so  great, 
especially  since  the  death  of  the  King  had  gone  abroad  from 
Oare  parish,  that  many  inquirers  would  only  wink,  and  lay  a 
finger  on  the  lip,  as  if  to  say,  "  You  know  well  enough,  but  see 
not  fit  to  tell  me."  And  before  tlie  end  arrived,  those  people 
believed  that  they  liad  been  right  all  along,  and  that  we  had 
concealed  tlie  trutli  from  thciii. 

For  I  myself  became  involved  (Cod  knows  how  much  against 
VOL.  n.  — 13 


194  LORNA   BOONE. 

my  will  and  my  proper  judgment)  in  the  troubles,  and  the 
conflict,  and  the  cruel  work  coming  afterwards.  If  ever  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  any  thing  in  all  my  life,  it  was  at  this 
particular  time,  and  as  stern  and  strong  as  could  be.  I  had 
resolved  to  let  things  pass,  —  to  hear  about  them  gladly,  to 
encourage  all  my  friends  to  talk,  and  myself  to  express  opinion 
upon  each  particular  point,  when  in  the  fulness  of  time  no 
further  doubt  covild  be.  But  all  my  policy  went  for  nothing, 
through  a  few  touches  of  feeling. 

One  day  at  the  beginning  of  July,  I  came  home  from  mowing 
about  noon,  or  a  little  later,  to  fetch  some  cider  for  all  of  us, 
and  to  eat  a  morsel  of  bacon.  For  mowing  was  no  joke  that 
year,  the  summer  being  wonderfully  wet  (even  for  our  wet 
country),  and  the  swatlie  falling  heavier  over  the  scythe  than 
ever  I  could  remember  it.  We  were  drenched  with  rain  almost 
every  day;  but  the  mowing  must  be  done  somehow;  and  we 
must  trust  to  God  for  the  hay-making. 

In  the  courtyard  I  saw  a  little  cart,  with  iron  breaks  under- 
neath it,  such  as  fastidious  people  use  to  deaden  the  jolting  of 
the  road ;  but  few  men  under  a  lord  or  baronet  would  be  so 
particular.  Therefore  I  wondered  who  our  noble  visitor  could 
be.  But  when  I  entered  the  kitchen-place,  brushing  up  my 
hair  for  somebody,  behold  it  was  no  one  greater  than  our  Annie, 
with  my  godson  in  her  arms,  and  looking  pale  and  tear-begone. 
And  at  first  she  could  not  speak  to  me.  But  presently  having 
sat  down  a  little,  and  received  much  praise  for  her  baby,  she 
smiled,  and  blushed,  and  found  her  tongue,  as  if  she  had  never 
gone  from  us. 

"  How  natural  it  all  looks  again !  Oh,  I  love  this  old  kitchen 
so !  Baby  dear,  only  look  at  it,  wid  him  pitty,  pitty  eyes,  and 
him  tongue  out  of  his  mousy !  But  v/ho  put  the  flour  riddle 
up  there?  And  look  at  the  pestle  and  mortar,  and  rust  I 
declare  in  the  patty  pans!  And  a  book,  positively  a  dirty 
book,  where  the  clean  skewers  ought  to  hang!  Oh,  Lizzie, 
Lizzie,  Lizzie ! " 

"You  may  just  as  well  cease  lamenting,"  I  said,  "for  you 
can't  alter  Lizzie's  nature,  and  you  will  only  make  mother 
uncomfortable,  and  perhaps  have  a  quarrel  with  Lizzie,  who 
is  proud  as  Punch  of  her  housekeeping." 

"  She !  "  cried  Annie,  with  all  the  contempt  that  could  be 
compressed  in  a  syllable.  "  Well,  John,  no  doubt  you  are  right 
about  it.  I  will  try  not  to  notice  things.  But  it  is  a  hard 
thing,  after  all  my  care,  to  see  every  thing  going  to  ruin.  But 
what  can  be  expected  of  a  girl  who  knows  all  the  kings  of 
Carthage?" 


JOHN  IS    WORSTED  BY   THE    WOMEN.  195 

"  There  were  no  kings  of  Carthage,  x\nnie.  They  were  called, 
why  let  me  see  —  they  were  called  —  oh,  something  else." 

"  Never  mind  Avhat  they  were  called, "  said  Annie ;  "  will  they 
cook  our  dinner  for  us?  But  now,  John,  I  am  in  such  trouble. 
All  this  talk  is  make-believe." 

'"Don't  you  cry,  my  dear:  don't  cry,  my  darling  sister,"  I 
answered,  as  she  dropped  into  the  worn  place  of  the  settle,  and 
bent  above  her  infant,  rocking  as  if  both  their  hearts  were  one: 
"  don't  you  know,  Annie,  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  know,  or  at  least 
I  mean,  I  have  heard  the  men  of  experience  say,  it  is  so  bad 
for  the  baby." 

"Perhaps  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do,  John,"  said  Annie, 
looking  up  at  me  with  a  gleam  of  her  old  laughing :  "  but  how 
can  I  help  crying?     1  am  in  such  trouble." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  my  dear.  Any  grief  of  yours  will  vex 
me  greatly;  but  I  will  try  to  bear  it." 

"Then,  John,  it  is  just  this.  Tom  has  gone  off  with  the 
rebels:  and  you  must,  oh,  you  must  go  after  him." 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

JOHN    IS    WORSTED    BY    THE    WOMEN. 

Moved  as  I  was  by  Annie's  tears,  and  gentle  style  of  coax- 
ing, and  most  of  all  by  my  love  for  her,  I  yet  declared  that  I 
could  not  go,  and  leave  our  house  and  homestead,  far  less  my 
dear  mother  and  Lizzie,  at  the  mercy  of  the  merciless  Doones. 

"Is  that  all  your  objection,  John?"  asked  Annie,  in  her 
quick  panting  way:  "would  you  go  but  for  that,  John?" 

"Now,"  I  said,  "be  in  no  such  hurry;"  for  while  I  was 
gradually  yielding,  I  liked  to  pass  it  through  my  fingers,  as  if 
my  fingers  shaped  it :  "  there  are  many  things  to  be  thought 
about,  and  many  ways  of  viewing  it." 

"  Oh,  you  never  can  liave  loved  Lorna!  No  wonder  you  gave 
her  up  so!  John,  you  can  love  nobody,  but  your  oat-ricks, 
and  your  hay-ricks." 

"  Sister  mine,  because  I  rant  not,  neither  rave  of  what  I  feel, 
can  you  be  so  shallow  as  to  dream  tliat  I  feel  nothing?  What 
is  your  love  for  Tom  Paggus?  What  is  your  love  for  your 
baby  (pretty  darling  as  he  is)  to  compare  with  such  a  love  as 
for  ever  dwidls  with  me?  liecause  I  do  not  prate  of  it;  because 
it  is  beyond  me,  not  only  to  express,  but  even  form  to  my  own 


196  LOBNA  DOONE. 

heart  in  thouglits;  because  I  do  not  shape  my  face,  and  would 
scorn  to  play  to  it,  as  a  thing  of  acting,  and  lay  it  out  before 

you,  are  you  fools  enough  to  think "  but  here  I  stopped, 

having  said  more  than  was  usual  with  me. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  John.  Dear  John,  I  am  so  sorry.  What 
a  shallow  fool  I  am !  " 

"  I  will  go  seek  your  husband,"  I  said,  to  change  the  subject, 
for  even  to  Annie  I  would  not  lay  open  all  my  heart  about 
Lorna:  "but  only  upon  condition  that  you  ensure  this  house, 
and  people,  from  the  Doones  meanwhile.  Even  for  the  sake 
of  Tom,  I  cannot  leave  all  helpless.  The  oat-ricks  and  the 
hay-ricks,  which  are  my  only  love,  they  are  welcome  to  make 
cinders  of.  But  I  will  not  have  mother  treated  so;  nor  even 
little  Lizzie,  although  you  scorn  your  sigter  so," 

"  Oh,  John,  I  do  think  you  are  the  hardest,  as  well  as  the 
softest,  of  all  the  men  I  know.  Not  even  a  woman's  bitter 
word  but  what  you  may  pay  her  out  for.  Will  you  never 
understand  that  we  are  not  like  you,  John?  We  say  all  sorts 
of  spiteful  things,  without  a  bit  of  meaning.  John,  for  God's 
sake,  fetch  Tom  home ;  and  then  revile  me  as  you  please,  and  I 
will  kneel  and  thank  you." 

''I  will  not  promise  to  fetch  him  home,"  I  answered,  being 
ashamed  of  myself,  for  having  lost  command  so :  "  but  I  will 
promise  to  do  my  best,  if  we  can  only  hit  on  a  plan  for  leaving 
mother  harmless." 

Annie  thought  for  a  little  while,  trying  to  gather  her  smooth 
clear  brow  into  maternal  wrinkles,  and  then  she  looked  at  her 
child,  and  said,  "I  will  risk  it,  for  daddy's  sake,  darling;  you 
precious  soul,  for  daddy's  sake."  I  asked  her  what  she  was 
going  to  risk.  She  would  not  tell  me ;  but  took  upper  hand, 
and  saw  to  my  cider-cans  and  bacon,  and  went  from  corner  to 
cupboard,  exactly  as  if  she  had  never  been  married;  only  with- 
out an  apron  on.  And  then  she  said,  "  Now  to  your  mowers, 
John ;  and  make  the  most  of  this  fine  afternoon :  kiss  your  god- 
son, before  you  go."  And  I,  being  used  to  obey  her,  in  little 
things  of  that  sort,  kissed  the  baby,  and  took  my  cans,  and 
went  back  to  my  scythe  again. 

By  the  time  I  came  home  it  was  dark  night,  and  pouring 
again  with  a  foggy  rain,  such  as  we  have  in  July,  even  more 
than  in  January.  Being  soaked  all  through  and  through,  and 
with  water  quelching  in  my  boots,  like  a  pump  with  a  bad 
bucket,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  find  Annie's  bright  face,  and 
quick  figure,  flitting  in  and  out  the  firelight,  instead  of  Lizzie 
sitting  grandly,  with  a  feast  of  literature,  and  not  a  drop  of 


JOHN   IS    won S TED  BY   THE   WOMEN.  197 

gravy.  Mother  was  in  the  corner  also,  with  her  cherry-colored 
ribbons  glistening  very  nice  by  candle  light,  looking  at  Annie 
now  and  then,  with  memories  of  her  babyhood;  and  then  at 
her  having  a  baby;  yet  half  afraid  of  praising  her  much,  for 
fear  of  that  young  Lizzie.  But  Lizzie  showed  no  jealousy :  she 
truly  loved  our  Annie  (now  that  she  was  gone  from  us),  and 
she  wanted  to  know  all  sorts  of  things,  and  she  adored  the  baby. 
Therefore  Annie  was  allowed  to  attend  to  me,  as  she  used  to  do. 

"Now,  John,  you  must  start  the  first  thing  in  the  morning," 
she  said,  when  the  others  had  left  the  room,  but  somehow  she 
stuck  to  the  baby,  "  to  fetch  me  back  my  rebel,  according  to 
your  promise." 

"Not  so,"  I  replied,  misliking  the  job;  "all  I  promised  was 
to  go,  if  this  house  were  assured  against  any  onslaught  of  the 
Doones." 

"Just  so;  and  here  is  that  assurance."  With  these  words 
she  drew  forth  a  paper,  and  laid  it  on  my  knee  with  triumph, 
enjoying  my  amazement.  This,  as  you  may  suppose,  was 
great;  not  only  at  the  document,  but  also  at  her  possession  of 
it.  For  in  truth  it  was  no  less  than  a  formal  undertaking,  on 
the  part  of  the  Doones,  not  to  attack  Plover's  Barrows  farm, 
or  molest  any  of  the  inmates,  or  carry  off  any  chattels,  during 
the  absence  of  John  Ridd  upon  a  special  errand.  This  document 
was  signed  not  only  by  the  Counsellor,  but  by  many  other 
Doones:  whether  Carver's  name  were  there,  I  could  not  say 
for  certain;  as  of  course  he  would  not  sign  it  under  his  name 
of  "  Carver,"  and  I  had  never  heard  Lorna  say  to  what  (if  any) 
he  had  been  baptized. 

In  the  face  of  such  a  deed  as  this,  I  could  no  longer  refuse 
to  go;  and  having  received  my  promise,  Annie  told  me  (as  was 
only  fair)  how  she  procured  that  paper.  It  was  both  a  clever 
and  courageous  act;  and  would  have  seemed  to  me,  at  first  sight, 
far  beyond  Annie's  power.  But  none  may  gauge  a  woman's 
power,  when  her  love  and  faith  are  moved. 

The  first  thing  Annie  had  done  was  this :  she  made  herself 
look  ugly.  This  was  not  an  easy  thing;  but  she  had  learned 
a  great  deal  from  her  husband,  upon  the  sul^ject  of  disguises. 
It  hurt  her  feelings  not  a  little  to  make  so  sad  a  fright  of  her- 
self; but  what  could  it  matter?  —  if  she  lost  Tom,  she  must  be 
a  far  greater  fright  in  earnest,  than  now  she  was  in  seeming. 
And  then  she  left  her  child  asleep  under  Betty  Muxworthy's 
tendance  —  for  Betty  took  to  that  child,  as  if  there  never  had 
been  a  cliild  before  —  and  away  she  went  in  her  own  "  spring- 
cart"  (as  the  name  of  that  engine  proved  to  be),  without  a 


198  LORNA   BOONE. 

word  to  any  one,  except  the  old  man  who  had  driven  her  from 
Molland  parish  that  morning;  and  who  coolly  took  one  of  our 
best  horses,  without  "  by  your  leave  "  to  any  one. 

Annie  made  the  old  man  drive  her  within  easy  reach  of  the 
Doone-gate,  whose  position  she  knew  well  enough,  from  all 
our  talk  about  it.  And  there  she  bade  the  old  man  stay,  until 
she  should  return  to  him.  Then  with  her  comely  figure 
hidden  by  a  dirty  old  woman's  cloak,  and  her  fair  young  face 
defaced  by  patches  and  by  liniments,  so  that  none  might  covet 
her,  she  addressed  the  young  men  at  the  gate  in  a  cracked  and 
trembling  voice;  and  they  were  scarcely  civil  to  the  "old 
hag,"  as  they  called  her.  She  said  that  she  bore  important 
tidings  for  Sir  Counsellor  himself,  and  must  be  conducted  to 
him.  To  him  accordingly  she  was  led,  without  even  any 
hood-winking;  for  she  had  spectacles  over  her  eyes,  and  made 
believe  not  to  see  ten  yards. 

She  found  Sir  Covinsellor  at  home,  and  when  the  rest  were 
out  of  sight,  threw  off  all  disguise  to  him,  flashing  forth  as  a 
lovely  young  woman,  from  all  her  wraps  and  disfigurements. 
She  flung  her  patches  on  the  floor,  amid  the  old  man's  laugh- 
ter, and  let  her  tucked-up  hair  come  down ;  and  then  went  up 
and  kissed  him. 

"  Worthy  and  reverend  Counsellor,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask, " 
she  began. 

"So  I  should  think  from  your  proceedings,"  the  old  man 
interrupted;  "ah,  if  I  were  half  my  age " 

"If  you  were,  I  would  not  sue  so.  But  most  excellent 
Counsellor,  you  owe  me  some  amends,  you  know,  for  the  way 
in  which  you  robbed  me." 

"Beyond  a  doubt  I  do,  my  dear.  You  have  put  it  rather 
strongly;  and  it  might  offend  some  people.  Nevertheless  I 
own  my  debt,  having  so  fair  a  creditor." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  you  slept,  and  how  much  we 
made  of  you,  and  would  have  seen  you  home,  sir;  only  you 
did  not  wish  it?" 

"  And  for  excellent  reasons,  child.  My  best  escort  was  in 
my  cloak,  after  we  made  the  cream  to  rise.  Ha  ha!  The 
unholy  spell.     My  pretty  child,  has  it  injured  you?  " 

"Yes,  I  fear  it  has,"  said  Annie;  "or  whence  can  all  my  ill 
luck  come?  "  And  here  she  showed  some  signs  of  crying, 
knowing  that  the  Counsellor  hated  it. 

"You  shall  not  have  ill  luck,  my  dear.  I  have  heard  all 
about  your  marriage  to  a  very  noble  highwayman.  Ah,  you 
made   a   mistake  in  that;  you  were  worthy  of  a  Doone,  my 


JOHN  IS    WORSTED  BY  THE    WOMEN.  199 

child;  your  frying  was  a  blessing  meant  for  those  who  can 
appreciate." 

"My  husband  can  appreciate,"  she  answered  very  proudly; 
"but  what  I  wish  to  know  is  this,  will  you  try  to  help  me?" 

The  Counsellor  answered  that  he  would  do  so,  if  her  needs 
were  moderate ;  whereupon  she  opened  her  meaning  to  him, 
and  told  of  all  her  anxieties.  Considering  that  Lorna  was 
gone,  and  her  necklace  in  his  possession,  and  that  I  (against 
whom  alone  of  us  the  Doones  could  bear  any  malice)  would  be 
out  of  the  way  all  the  while,  the  old  man  readily  undertook 
that  our  house  should  not  be  assaulted,  nor  our  property 
molested,  until  my  return.  And  to  the  promptitude  of  his 
pledge,  tAvo  things  perhaps  contributed,  namely,  that  he  knew 
not  how  we  were  stripped  of  all  defenders,  and  that  some  of 
his  own  forces  were  away  in  the  rebel  camp.  For  (as  I 
learned  thereafter)  the  Doones  being  now  in  direct  feud  with 
the  present  Government,  and  sure  to  be  crushed  if  that  pre- 
vailed, had  resolved  to  drop  all  religious  questions,  and  cast 
in  their  lot  with  Monmouth.  And  the  turbulent  youths,  being 
long  restrained  from  their  wonted  outlet  for  vehemence,  by 
the  troopers  in  the  neighborhood,  Avere  only  too  glad  to  rush 
forth  upon  any  promise  of  blows  and  excitement. 

However,  Annie  knew  little  of  this, but  took  the  Counsellor's 
pledge  as  a  mark  of  especial  favor  in  her  behalf  (which  it  may 
have  been,  to  some  extent),  and  thanked  him  for  it  most 
heartily,  and  felt  that  he  had  earned  the  necklace;  while  he, 
like  an  ancient  gentleman,  disclaimed  all  obligation,  and  sent 
her  under  an  escort  safe  to  her  own  cart  again.  But  Annie, 
repassing  the  sentinels,  with  her  youth  restored,  and  bloom- 
ing with  the  flush  of  triumph,  went  up  to  them  very  gravely, 
and  said,  "  The  old  hag  wishes  you  good  evening,  gentlemen ;  " 
and  so  made  her  best  courtesy. 

Now  look  at  it  as  I  would,  there  was  no  excixse  left  for  me, 
after  the  promise  given.  Dear  Annie  had  not  only  cheated 
the  Doones,  but  also  had  gotten  the  best  of  me  by  a  pledge  to 
a  thing  impossible.  And  I  bitterly  said,  "I  am  not  like 
Lorna:  a  pledge  once  given,  I  keep  it." 

"I  will  not  have  a  word  against  Lorna,"  cried  Annie;  "I 
will  answer  for  her  truth,  as  surely  as  I  would  for  my  own, 
or  yours,  John."     And  with  that  she  vanquished  me. 

But  when  my  poor  mother  heard  that  I  was  committed, 
by  word  of  honor,  to  a  wild-goose  chase,  among  the  rebels, 
after  that  runagate  Tom  Faggus,  she  simply  stared,  and 
would  not  believe  it.     For  lately  I  had  joked  with  her,  in  a 


200  LOBNA  DOONE. 

little  style  of  jerks,  as  people  do  when  out  of  sorts ;  and  she 
not  understanding  this,  and  knowing  jokes  to  be  out  of  my 
power,  would  only  look,  and  sigh,  and  toss,  and  hope  that  I 
meant  nothing.  At  last,  however,  we  convinced  her  that  I 
was  in  earnest,  and  must  be  off  in  the  early  morning,  and 
leave  John  Fry  with  the  hay  crop. 

Then  mother  was  ready  to  fall  upon  Annie,  as  not  content 
with  disgracing  us,  by  wedding  a  man  of  new  honesty  (if 
indeed  of  any),  but  laying  traps  to  catch  her  brother,  and 
entangle  him  perhaps  to  his  death,  for  the  sake  of  a  worth- 
less fellow;  and  "felon"  —  she  was  going  to  say,  as  by  the 
shape  of  her  lips  I  knew.  But  I  laid  my  hand  upon  dear 
mother's  lips;  because  what  must  be,  must  be;  and  if  mother 
and  daughter  stayed  at  home,  better  in  love  than  in  quar- 
relling. 

Eight  early  in  the  morning  I  was  off,  without  word  to  any 
one;  knowing  that  motlier,  and  sister  mine,  had  cried  each 
her  good  self  to  sleep ;  relenting  when  the  light  was  out,  and 
sorry  for  hard  words  and  thoughts ;  and  yet  too  much  alike 
in  nature  to  understand  each  other.  Therefore  I  took  good 
Kickums,  who  (although  with  one  eye  spoiled)  was  worth  ten 
sweet-tempered  horses,  to  a  man  who  knew  how  to  manage 
him;  and  being  well  charged  both  with  bacon  and  powder, 
forth  I  set  on  my  wild-goose  chase. 

For  this  I  claim  no  bravery.  I  cared  but  little  what  came 
of  it ;  save  for  mother's  sake,  and  Annie's,  and  the  keeping  of 
the  farm,  and  discomfiture  of  the  Snowes,  and  lamenting  of 
Lorna  at  my  death,  if  die  I  must  in  a  lonesome  manner, 
not  found  out  till  afterwards,  and  bleaching  bones  left  to 
weep  over.  However,  I  had  a  little  kettle,  and  a  pound  and 
a  half  of  tobacco,  and  two  dirty  pipes  and  a  clean  one;  also 
a  bit  of  clothes  for  change,  also  a  brisket  of  hung  venison,  and 
four  loaves  of  farm-house  bread,  and  of  the  upper  side  of 
bacon  a  stone  and  a  half  it  might  be,  not  to  mention  divers 
small  things  for  campaigning,  which  may  come  in  handily, 
when  no  one  else  has  gotten  them. 

We  went  away  in  merry  style;  my  horse  being  ready  for 
anything,  and  I  only  glad  of  a  bit  of  change,  after  months  of 
working  and  brooding;  with  no  content  to  crown  the  work; 
no  hope  to  hatch  the  brooding,  or  without  hatching  to  reckon 
it.  Who  could  tell  but  what  Lorna  might  be  discovered,  or 
at  any  rate  heard  of,  before  the  end  of  this  campaign ;  if  cam- 
paign it  could  be  called  of  a  man  who  went  to  fight  nobody, 
only  to  redeem  a  runagate?     And  vexed  as  I  was  about  the 


JOHN  IS    WOBSTED  BT  THE   WOMEN.  201 

haj,  and  the  liuucli-backed  ricks  Jolm  was  sure  to  make 
(which  spoil  the  look  of  a  farmyard),  still  even  this  wa? 
better  than  to  have  the  mows  and  houses  fired,  as  I  had 
nightly  expected,  and  been  worn  out  with  the  worry  of  it. 

Yet  there  was  one  thing  rather  unfavorable  to  my  present 
enterprise,  namely,  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  country  I  was 
bound  to,  nor  even  in  what  part  of  it  my  business  might  be 
supposed  to  lie.  For  beside  the  uncertainty  caused  by  the 
conflict  of  reports,  it  was  likely  that  King  Monmouth's  army 
would  be  moving  from  place  to  place,  according  to  the  pros- 
pect of  supplies  and  of  reinforcements.  However  there  would 
arise  more  chance  of  getting  news  as  I  went  on :  and  my  road 
being  towards  the  east  and  south,  Dulverton  would  not  lie 
so  very  far  aside  of  it,  but  what  it  might  be  worth  a  visit, 
both  to  collect  the  latest  tidings,  and  to  consult  the  maps  and 
plans  in  Uncle  Reuben's  parlor.  Therefore  I  drew  the  off- 
hand rein,  at  the  cross-road  on  the  hills,  and  made  for  the 
town;  expecting  perhaps  to  have  breakfast  with  Master 
Huckaback,  and  Ruth  to  help  and  encourage  us.  This  little 
maiden  was  now  become  a  very  great  favorite  with  me,  hav- 
ing long  outgrown,  no  doubt,  her  childish  fancies  and  follies, 
such  as  my  mother  and  Annie  had  planted  under  her  soft 
brown  hair.  It  had  been  my  duty,  as  well  as  my  true  interest 
(for  Uncle  Ben  was  more  and  more  testy,  as  he  went  on  gold- 
digging),  to  ride  thither,  now  and  again,  to  inquire  what  the 
doctor  thought  of  her.  ISJ^ot  that  her  wounds  were  long  in 
healing,  but  that  people  can  scarcely  be  too  careful  and  too 
inquisitive,  after  a  great  horse-bite.  And  she  always  let  me 
look  at  the  arm,  as  I  had  been  first  doctor;  and  she  held  it 
up  in  a  graceful  manner,  curving  at  the  elbow,  and  with  a 
sweep  of  white  roundness  going  to  a  wrist  the  size  of  my 
thumb  or  so,  and  without  any  tliimble-top  standing  forth,  such 
as  even  our  Annie  had.  But  gradually  all  I  could  see,  above 
the  elbow,  where  the  bite  had  been,  was  very  clear,  trans- 
parent skin,  with  very  firm  sweet  flesh  below,  and  three  little 
blue  marks  as  far  asunder  as  the  prongs  of  a  toasting-fork, 
and  no  deeper  than  where  a  twig  has  chafed  the  peel  of  a 
waxen  apple.  And  then  I  used  to  say  in  fun,  as  the  children 
do,  "  Shall  I  kiss  it,  to  make  it  well,  dear?  " 

Now  Ruth  looked  very  grave  indeed,  upon  hearing  of  this 
my  enteri)rise;  and  crying,  said  she  could  almost  cry,  for  the 
sake  of  my  dear  mother.  Did  1  know  the  risks  and  chances, 
not  of  the  battle-field  alone,  but  of  tlie  havoc  afterwards ;  the 
swearing  away  of  innocent  lives,   and  the  hurdle,    and    the 


202  LORNA   BOONE. 

hanging?  And  if  I  would  please  not  to  laugh  (which  was  so 
unkind  of  me),  had  I  never  heard  of  imprisonments,  and  tor- 
turing with  the  cruel  boot,  and  selling  into  slavery,  where  the 
sun  and  the  lash  outvied  one  another  in  cutting  a  man  to 
pieces?  I  replied  that  of  all  these  things  I  had  heard,  and 
would  take  especial  care  to  steer  me  free  of  all  of  them.  My 
duty  was  all  that  I  wished  to  do ;  and  none  could  harm  me  for 
doing  that.  And  I  begged  my  cousin  to  give  me  good-speed, 
instead  of  talking  dolefully.  Upon  this  she  changed  her 
manner  wholly,  becoming  so  lively  and  cheerful  that  I  was 
convinced  of  her  indifference,  and  surprised  even  more  than 
gratified. 

"Go  and  earn  your  spurs,  Cousin  Ridd,"  she  said:  "you  are 
strong  enough  for  any  thing.  Which  side  is  to  have  the  bene- 
fit of  your  doughty  arm?  " 

"Have  I  not  told  you,  Ruth,"  I  answered,  not  being  fond 
of  this  kind  of  talk,  more  suitable  for  Lizzie,  "  that  I  do  not 
mean  to  join  either  side,  that  is  to  say,  until " 

"  Until,  as  the  common  proverb  goes,  you  know  which  way 
the  cat  will  jump.     Oh,  John  Ridd !     Oh,  John  Ridd !  " 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  I:  "what  a  hurry  you  are  in!  I 
am  for  the  King,  of  course." 

"  But  not  enough  to  fight  for  him.  Only  enough  to  vote,  I 
suppose,  or  drink  his  health,  or  shout  for  him,  as  soon  as  you 
are  sure  who  is  the  King." 

"I  can't  make  you  out  to-day.  Cousin  Ruth;  you  are  nearly 
as  bad  as  Lizzie.  You  do  not  say  any  bitter  things,  but  you 
seem  to  mean  them." 

"No,  cousin,  think  not  so  of  me.  It  is  far  more  likely  that 
I  say  them,  without  meaning  them." 

"  Any  how,  it  is  not  like  you.  And  I  know  not  what  I  can 
have  done  in  any  way,  to  vex  you." 

"Dear  me,  nothing.  Cousin  Ridd;  you  never  do  any  thing 
to  vex  me." 

"  Then  I  hope  I  shall  do  something  now,  Ruth,  when  I  say 
good-bye.  God  knows  if  we  ever  shall  meet  again,  Ruth :  but 
I  hope  we  may." 

"To  be  sure  we  shall,"  she  answered  in  her  brightest  man- 
ner. "  Try  not  to  look  wretched,  John :  you  are  as  happy  as 
a  Maypole." 

"And  you  as  a  rose  in  May,"  I  said;  "and  pretty  nearly  as 
pretty.  Give  my  love  to  Uncle  Ben ;  and  I  trust  him  to  keep 
on  the  winning  side." 

"  Of  that  you  need  have  no  misgiving.     Never  yet  has  he 


SLAUGHTER   IN    THE  MARSHES.  203 

failed  of  it.  Now,  Cousin  Kidd,  ^vliy  go  you  not?  You  hur- 
ried me  so  at  breakfast  time." 

"My  only  reason  for  waiting,  Euth,  is  that  you  have  not 
kissed  me,  as  you  are  almost  bound  to  do,  for  the  last  time 
perhaps  of  seeing  me." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  all,  just  fetch  the  stool ;  and  I  will  do  my 
best,  cousin." 

"  I  pray  you  be  not  so  vexatious :  you  always  used  to  do  it 
nicely,  without  any  stool,  Ruth." 

"Ah,  but  you  are  grown  since  then,  and  become  a  famous 
man,  John  Ridd,  and  a  member  of  the  nobility.  Go  your 
way,  and  win  your  spurs.     I  want  no  lip-service." 

Being  at  the  end  of  my  wits,  I  did  even  as  she  ordered  me. 
At  least  I  had  no  spurs  to  win,  because  there  were  big  ones  on 
my  boots,  paid  for  in  the  Easter  bill,  and  made  by  a  famous 
saddler,  so  as  never  to  clog  with  marsh  weed,  but  prick  as 
hard  as  any  horse,  in  reason,  could  desire.  And  Kickums 
never  wanted  spurs;  but  always  went  tail-foremost,  if  any 
body  offered  them  for  his  consideration. 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

SLAUGHTER    IN    THE    MARSHES. 

"We  rattled  away,  at  a  merry  pace,  out  of  the  town  of  Dul- 
verton;  my  horse  being  gaily  fed,  and  myself  quite  fit  again 
for  going.  Of  course  I  was  puzzled  about  Cousin  Ruth;  for 
her  behavior  was  not  at  all  such  as  I  had  expected ;  and  indeed 
I  had  hoped  for  a  far  more  loving  and  moving  farewell  than  I 
got  from  her.  But  I  said  to  myself,  "  It  is  useless  ever  to  count 
upon  what  a  woman  will  do;  and  I  think  that  I  must  have 
vexed  her,  almost  as  much  as  she  vexed  me.  And  now  to  see 
what  comes  of  it."  So  I  put  my  horse  across  the  moorland; 
and  he  threw  his  chest  out  bravely. 

Now  if  I  tried  to  set  down  at  length  all  the  things  that  hap- 
pened to  me,  upon  this  adventure,  every  in  and  out,  and  u{) 
and  down,  and  to  and  fro,  that  occupied  me,  together  with 
the  things  I  saw,  and  the  tilings  I  heard  of  —  however  much 
the  wiser  people  might  applaud  my  narrative,  it  is  likely 
enough  tliat  idle  readers  miglit  exclaim,  "What  ails  this  man? 
Knows  he  not  that  men  of  ])arts,  and  of  real  understanding, 
have  told  us  all  we  care  to  hear  of  that  miserable  business? 


204  LORNA  DOONE. 

Let  him  keep  to  his  farm,  and  bacon,  his  wrestling,  and  con- 
stant feeding." 

Fearing  to  meet  with  such  rebuffs  (which  after  my  death 
would  vex  me),  I  will  try  to  set  down  only  what  is  needful 
for  my  story,  and  the  clearing  of  my  character,  and  the  good 
name  of  our  parish.  But  the  manner  in  which  I  was  bandied 
about,  by  false  information,  from  pillar  to  post,  or  at  other 
times  driven  quite  out  of  my  Avay  by  the  presence  of  the  King's 
soldiers,  may  be  known  by  the  names  of  the  following  towns, 
to  which  I  was  sent  in  succession,  Bath,  Frome,  Wells,  Win- 
canton,  Glastonbury,  Shepton,  Bradford,  Axbridge,  Somerton, 
and  Bridgewater. 

This  last  place  I  reached  on  a  Sunday  night,  the  fourth  or 
fifth  of  July,  I  think  —  or  it  might  be  the  sixth,  for  that 
matter;  inasmuch  as  I  had  been  too  much  worried  to  get  the 
day  of  the  month  at  church.  Only  I  know  that  my  horse  and 
myself  were  glad  to  come  to  a  decent  place,  where  meat,  and 
corn,  could  be  had  for  money ;  and  being  quite  weary  of  wan- 
dering about,  we  hoped  to  rest  there  a  little. 

Of  this,  however,  we  found  no  chance,  for  the  town  was  full 
of  the  good  Duke's  soldiers;  if  men  may  be  called  so,  the 
half  of  whom  had  never  been  drilled,  nor  had  fired  a  gun. 
And  it  was  rumored  among  them  that  the  "popish  army,"  as 
they  called  it,  was  to  be  attacked  that  very  night,  and  with 
God's  assistance  beaten.  However,  by  this  time  I  had  been 
taught  to  pay  little  attention  to  rumors;  and  having  sought 
vainly  for  Tom  Faggus,  among  these  poor  rustic  warriors,  I 
took  to  my  hostel,  and  went  to  bed,  being  as  weary  as  weary 
can  be. 

Falling  asleep  immediately,  I  took  heed  of  nothing; 
although  the  town  was  all  alive,  and  lights  had  come  glanc- 
ing, as  I  lay  down,  and  shouts  making  echo  all  round  my 
room.  But  all  I  did  was  to  hug  my  pillow;  not  an  inch  would 
I  budge,  unless  the  house,  and  even  my  bed,  were  on  fire. 
And  so  for  several  hours  I  lay,  in  the  depth  of  the  deepest 
slumber,  without  even  a  dream  on  its  surface;  vintil  I  was 
roused  and  awakened  at  last,  by  a  pushing,  and  pulling,  and 
pinching,  and  a  plucking  of  hair  out  by  the  roots.  And  at 
length,  being  able  to  open  mine  eyes,  I  saw  the  old  landlady, 
with  a  candle,  heavily  wondering  at  me. 

"Can't  you  let  me  alone?"  I  grumbled:  "I  have  paid  for 
my  bed,  mistress;  and  I  won't  get  up,  for  any  one." 

"Would  to  God,  young  man,"  she  answered,  shaking  me  as 
hard  as  ever,  "  that  the  popish  soldiers  may  sleep,  this  night, 


SLAUGHTER   IN   THE  MARSHES.  205 

only  half  as  strong  as  tliou  dost !  Fie  on  thee,  fie  on  thee ! 
Get  up,  and  go  fight ;  we  can  hear  the  battle  already ;  and  a 
man  of  thy  size  moiight  stop  a  cannon." 

"  I  would  rather  stop  a-bed, "  said  I ;  "  what  have  I  to  do 
with  fighting?     I  am  for  King  James,  if  any," 

"Then  thou  raayest  even  stop  a-bed,"  the  old  woman  mut- 
tered sulkily.  "  A'  would  never  have  labored  half-an-hour  to 
awake  a  Papisher.  But  hearken  you  one  thing,  young  man; 
Zummerzett  thou  art,  by  thy  brogue ;  or  at  least  by  thy  under- 
standing of  it;  no  Zummerzett  maid  will  look  at  thee,  in  spite 
of  thy  size  and  stature,  unless  thou  strikest  a  blow  this  night." 

"  I  lack  no  Zummerzett  maid,  mistress :  I  have  a  fairer  than 
your  brown  things;  and  for  her  alone  would  I  strike  a  blow." 

At  this  the  old  woman  gave  me  up,  as  being  beyond  correc- 
tion; and  it  vexed  me  a  little  that  my  great  fame  had  not 
reached  so  far  as  Bridgewater,  when  I  thought  that  it  went  to 
Bristowe.  But  those  people  in  East  Somerset  know  nothing 
about  wrestling.  Devon  is  the  head  quarters  of  the  art;  and 
Devon  is  the  county  of  my  chief  love.  Howbeit,  my  vanity 
was  moved  by  this  slur  upon  it  —  for  I  had  told  her  my  name 
Avas  "John  Kidd,"  when  I  had  a  gallon  of  ale  with  her,  ere 
ever  I  came  upstairs ;  and  she  had  nodded,  in  such  a  manner, 
that  I  thought  she  knew  both  name  and  fame  —  and  here  was 
I,  not  only  shaken,  pinched,  and  with  many  hairs  pulled  out, 
in  the  midst  of  my  first  good  sleep  for  a  week,  but  also 
abused,  and  taken  amiss,  and  (which  vexed  me  most  of  all) 
unknown. 

Now  there  is  nothing  like  vanity  to  keep  a  man  awake  at 
night,  however  he  be  weary;  and  most  of  all,  when  he  believes 
that  he  is  doing  sometliing  great  —  this  time,  if  never  done 
before  —  yet  other  people  will  not  see,  except  what  they  may 
laugh  at;  and  so  be  far  above  him,  and  sleep  themselves  the 
happier.  Therefore  their  sleep  robs  his  own;  for  all  tilings 
})lay  so,  in  and  out  (witli  the  godly  and  ungodly  ever  swaying 
in  a  balance,  as  they  have  done  in  my  time,  almost  every 
year  or  two),  all  things  have  such  nice  reply  of  produce  to 
the  call  for  it,  and  such  a  spread  across  the  world,  giving  here 
and  taking  there,  yet  on  the  whole  pretty  even,  that  haply 
sleep  itself  has  but  a  certain  stock,  and  keeps  in  hand,  and 
sells  to  flattered  (which  can  pay)  that  which  flattened  vanity 
cannot  pay,  and  will  not  sue  for. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  was  by  this  time  wide  awake,  though 
much  aggrieved  at  feeling  so,  and  through  the  open  window 
heard  the  distant  roll  of  musketry,  and  the  beating  of  drums, 


206  LORNA   BOONE. 

with  a  quh'.k  fab-a-dub,  and  the  "come  round  the  corner,"  of 
tmiBpet-call,  And  perhaps  Tom  Faggus  might  be  there,  and 
siiot  at  any  moment,  and  my  dear  Annie  left  a  poor  widow, 
and  my  godson  Jack  an  orphan,  without  a  tootli  to  help  him. 

Therefore  I  reviled  myself  for  all  my  heavy  laziness;  and 
partly  through  good  honest  will,  and  partly  through  the  stings 
of  pride,  and  yet  a  little  perhaps  by  virtue  of  a  young  man's 
love  of  riot,  up  I  arose,  and  dressed  myself,  and  woke  Kick- 
ums  (who  was  snoring),  and  set  out  to  see  the  worst  of  it. 
The  sleepy  hostler  scratched  his  poll,  and  could  not  tell  me 
which  way  to  take ;  what  odds  to  him  who  was  King,  or  Pope, 
so  long  as  he  paid  his  way,  and  got  a  bit  of  bacon  on  Sunday? 
And  would  I  please  to  remember,  that  I  had  roused  him  up 
at  night,  and  the  quality  always  made  a  point  of  paying  four 
times  over,  for  a  man's  loss  of  his  beauty-sleej).  I  replied 
that  his  loss  of  beauty-sleep  was  rather  improving  to  a  man 
of  so  high  complexion;  and  that  I,  being  none  of  the  quality, 
must  pay  half-quality  prices :  and  so  I  gave  him  double  fee, 
as  became  a  good  farmer;  and  he  was  glad  to  be  quit  of  Kick- 
ums ;  as  I  saw  by  the  turn  of  his  eye,  while  going  out  at  the 
archway. 

All  this  was  done  by  lanthorn  light,  although  the  moon  was 
high  and  bold ;  and  in  the  northern  heaven,  flags  and  ribbons 
of  a  jostling  pattern ;  such  as  we  often  have  in  autumn,  but  in 
July  very  rarely.  Of  these  Master  Dryden  has  spoken  some- 
where, in  his  courtly  manner;  but  of  him  I  think  so  little  — 
because  by  fashion  preferred  to  Shakespeare  —  that  I  cannot 
remember  the  passage;  neither  is  it  a  credit  to  him. 

Therefore  I  was  guided  mainly  by  the  sound  of  guns  and 
trumpets,  in  riding  out  of  the  narrow  ways,  and  into  the  open 
marshes.  And  thus  I  might  have  found  my  road,  in  spite  of 
all  the  spread  of  water,  and  the  glaze  of  moonshine ;  but  that, 
as  I  followed  sound  (far  from  hedge  or  causeway),  fog  (like 
a  chestnut  tree  in  blossom,  touched  with  moonlight)  met  me. 
Now  fog  is  a  thing  that  I  understand,  and  can  do  with  well 
enough,  where  I  know  the  country :  but  here  I  had  never  been 
before.  It  was  nothing  to  our  Exmoor  fogs ;  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  them ;  and  all  the  time  one  could  see  the  moon ; 
which  we  cannot  do  in  our  fogs ;  nor  even  the  sun,  for  a  week 
together.  Yet  the  gleam  of  water  always  makes  a  fog  more 
difficult:  like  a  curtain  on  a  mirror;  none  can  tell  the  boun- 
daries. 

And  here  we  had  broad-watei*  patches,  in  and  out,  inlaid  on 
land,  like  mother-of-pearl  in  brown  Shittim  wood.     To  a  wild 


SLAUGHTER   IN    THE  MARSHES.  207 

duck,  born  and  bred  there,  it  would  almost  be  a  puzzle  to  find 
her  own  nest  amongst  them;  what  chance  then  had  I  and 
Kickums,  both  unused  to  marsh  and  mere?  Each  time  when 
we  thought  that  we  must  be  right,  now  at  last,  by  track  or 
passage,  and  approaching  the  conflict,  with  the  sounds  of  it 
waxing  nearer,  suddenly  a  break  of  water  would  be  laid  before 
us,  with  the  moon  looking  mildly  over  it,  and  the  northern 
lights  behind  us,  dancing  down  the  lines  of  fog. 

It  was  an  awful  thing,  I  say  (and  to  this  day  I  remember  it), 
to  hear  the  sounds  of  raging  fight,  and  the  yells  of  raving 
slayers,  and  the  howls  of  poor  men  stricken  hard,  and  shattered 
from  wrath  to  wailing;  then  suddenly  the  dead  low  hush,  as 
of  a  soul  departing,  and  spirits  kneeling  over  it.  Through  the 
vapor  of  the  earth,  and  white  breath  of  the  water,  and  beneath 
the  pale  round  moon  (bowing  as  the  drift  went  by),  all  this 
rush  and  pause  of  fear  passed,  or  lingered,  on  my  path. 

At  last,  when  I  almost  despaired  of  escaping  from  this  tangle 
of  spongy  banks,  and  of  hazy  creeks,  and  reed-fringe,  my  horse 
heard  the  neigh  of  a  fellow  horse,  and  was  only  too  glad  to 
answer  it;  upon  which  the  other,  having  lost  his  rider,  came 
up,  and  pricked  his  ears  at  iis,  and  gazed  tlirough  the  fog  very 
steadfastly.  Therefore  I  encouraged  him  with  a  soft  and 
genial  whistle,  and  Kickums  did  his  best  to  tempt  him  with 
a  snort  of  enquiry.  However,  nothing  w^ould  suit  that  nag, 
except  to  enjoy  his  new  freedom;  and  he  capered  away  with 
his  tail  set  on  high,  and  the  stirnip-irons  clashing  under  him. 
Therefore,  as  he  might  know  the  way,  and  appeared  to  have 
been  in  the  l)attle,  we  followed  him  very  carefully;  and  he  led 
us  to  a  little  hamlet,  called  (as  I  found  afterwards)  West  Zuy- 
land,  or  Zealand,  so  named  perhaps  from  its  situation  amid 
this  inland  sea. 

Here  the  King's  troops  had  been  quite  lately,  and  their  fires 
were  still  burning;  biit  the  men  themselves  had  been  sum- 
moned away  by  the  night  attack  of  the  rebels.  Hence  I  pro- 
cured for  my  guide  a  young  man  who  knew  tlie  district 
thoroughly,  and  who  led  me  by  many  intricate  ways  to  the  rear 
of  the  rebel  army.  We  came  upon  a  broad  open  moor,  striped 
with  sullen  water-courses,  shagged  with  sedge,  and  yellow  iris, 
and  in  the  drier  part  with  bilberries.  For  by  this  time  it  was 
four  o'clock,  and  the  summer  sun,  arising  wanly,  showed  us  all 
the  ghastly  scene. 

Would  that  I  had  never  been  there!  Often  in  the  lonely 
hours,  even  now  it  liaunts  me :  would,  far  more,  tliat  the  i)ite- 
ou3  scene  had  never  been  done  in  England!     Flying  men,  flung 


208  LOBNA  BOONE. 

back  from  dreams  of  victory  and  honor,  only  glad  to  have  the 
luck  of  life  and  limbs  to  fly  with,  mud-bedraggled,  foul  with 
slime,  reeking  both  with  sweat  and  blood,  which  they  could  not 
stop  to  wipe,  cursing,  with  their  pumped-out  lungs,  every  stick 
that  hindered  them,  or  gory  puddle  that  slipped  the  step, 
scarcely  able  to  leap  over  the  corses  that  had  dragged  to  die. 
And  to  see  how  the  corses  lay;  some,  as  fair  as  death  in 
sleep ;  with  the  smile  of  placid  valor,  and  of  noble  manhood, 
hovering  yet  on  the  silent  lips.  These  had  bloodless  hands  put 
upwards,  white  as  wax,  and  firm  as  death,  clasped  (as  on  a 
monument)  in  prayer  for  dear  ones  left  behind,  or  in  high 
thanksgiving.  And  of  these  men  there  was  nothing  in  their 
broad  blue  eyes  to  fear.  But  others  were  of  different  sort; 
simple  fellows  unused  to  pain,  accustomed  to  the  bill-hook, 
perhaps,  or  rasp  of  the  knuckles  in  a  quick-set  hedge,  or  mak- 
ing some  to-do,  at  breakfast,  over  a  thumb  cut  in  sharpening  a 
scythe,  and  expecting  their  wives  to  make  more  to-do.  Yet 
here  lay  these  poor  chaps,  dead;  dead,  after  a  deal  of  pain,  with 
little  mind  to  bear  it,  and  a  soul  they  had  never  thought  of; 
gone,  their  God  alone  knows  whither;  but  to  mercy  we  may 
trust.  Upon  these  things  I  cannot  dwell;  and  none,  I  trow, 
would  ask  me :  only  if  a  plain  man  saw  what  I  saw  that  morn- 
ing, he  (if  God  had  blessed  him  with  the  heart  that  is  in  most 
of  us)  must  have  sickened  of  all  desire  to  be  great  among 
mankind. 

Seeing  me  riding  to  the  front  (where  the  work  of  death  went 
on,  among  the  men  of  true  English  pluck;  which,  when  moved, 
no  further  moves),  the  fugitives  called  out  to  me,  in  half-a- 
dozen  dialects,  to  make  no  utter  fool  of  myself;  for  the  great 
guns  were  come,  and  the  fight  was  over;  all  the  rest  was 
slaughter. 

"  Arl  oop  wi  Moonmo',"  shouted  one  big  fellow,  a  miner  of 
the  Mendip  hills,  whose  weapon  was  a  pickaxe :  "  na  oose  to 
vaight  na  moor.     Wend  thee  hame,  young  mon,  agin. " 

Upon  this  I  stopped  my  horse,  desiring  not  to  be  shot  for 
nothing;  and  eager  to  and  some  poor  sick  people,  who  tried  to 
lift  their  arms  to  me.  And  this  I  did  to  the  best  of  my  power, 
though  void  of  skill  in  the  business ;  and  more  inclined  to  weep 
with  them  than  to  check  their  weeping.  While  I  was  giving 
a  drop  of  cordial  from  my  flask  to  one  poor  fellow,  who  sat  up, 
while  his  life  was  ebbing,  and  with  slow  insistence  urged  me, 
when  his  broken  voice  would  come,  to  tell  his  wife  (whose  name 
I  knew  not)  something  about  an  apple-tree,  and  a  golden  guinea 
stored  in  it,  to  divide  among  six  children  —  in  the  midst  of 


SLAUGHTER  IN   THE  MARSHES.  209 

this,  I  felt  warm  lips  laid  against  my  cheek  quite  softly,  and 
then  a  little  push;  and  behold  it  was  a  horse  leaning  over  me! 
I  arose  in  haste,  and  there  stood  Winnie,  looking  at  me  with 
beseeching  eyes,  enough  to  melt  a  heart  of  stone.  Then  see- 
ing my  attention  fixed,  she  turned  her  head,  and  glanced  back 
sadly  towards  the  place  of  battle,  and  gave  a  little  wistful 
neigh :  and  then  looked  me  full  in  the  face  again,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  Do  you  understand?  "  while  she  scraped  with  one  hoof 
impatiently.  If  ever  a  horse  tried  hard  to  speak,  it  was  Win- 
nie at  that  moment.  I  went  to  her  side  and  patted  her;  but 
that  was  not  what  she  wanted.  Then  I  offered  to  leap  into 
the  empty  saddle ;  but  neither  did  that  seem  good  to  her :  for 
she  ran  away  toward  the  part  of  the  field,  at  which  she  had 
been  glancing  back,  and  then  turned  round,  and  shook  her 
mane,  entreating  me  to  follow  her. 

Upon  this  I  learned  from  the  dying  man  where  to  find  his 
apple-tree,  and  promised  to  add  another  guinea  to  the  one  in 
store  for  his  children;  and  so,  commending  him  to  God,  I 
mounted  my  own  horse  again,  and  to  Winnie's  great  delight 
professed  myself  at  her  service.  With  her  ringing  silvery 
neigh,  such  as  no  other  horse  of  all  I  ever  knew  could  equal, 
she  at  once  proclaimed  her  triumph,  and  told  her  master  (or 
meant  to  tell,  if  death  should  not  have  closed  his  ears),  that 
she  was  coming  to  his  aid,  and  bringing  one  who  might  be 
trusted,  of  the  higher  race  that  kill. 

A  cannon -bullet  fired  low,  and  ploughing  the  marsh  slowly, 
met  poor  W^innie  front  to  front;  and  she,  being  as  quick  as 
thought,  lowered  her  nose  to  sniff  at  it.  It  might  be  a  mes- 
sage from  her  master;  for  it  made  a  mournful  noise.  But 
luckily  for  Winnie's  life,  a  rise  of  wet  ground  took  the  ball, 
even  under  her  very  nose ;  and  there  it  cut  a  splashy  groove, 
missing  her  off  hind-foot  by  an  inch,  and  scattering  black  mud 
over  her.  It  frightened  me  much  more  than  Winnie;  of  that 
I  am  quite  certain :  because,  though  I  am  firm  enough,  when  it 
comes  to  a  real  tussle,  and  the  heart  of  a  fellow  warms  up,  and 
tells  him  that  he  must  go  through  with  it;  yet  I  never  did 
approve  of  making  a  cold  ])ie  of  death. 

Therefore,  with  those  reckless  cannons,  brazen-mouthed,  and 
bellowing,  two  furlongs  off,  or  it  might  be  more  (and  the  more 
the  merrier),  I  would  have  given  that  year's  hay-croj),  for  a  bit 
of  a  hill,  or  a  thickest  of  oaks,  or  almost  even  a  ba<lger's  earth. 
Peo])le  will  call  m(;  a  coward  for  this  (especially  when  I  had 
made  up  my  mind,  that  life  was  not  wortli  having  without  any 
sign  of  fjoi'iia);  neverthcdess,  1  cannot  help  it:  those  were  my 

VOL.   u. —  14 


210  LOBNA   DOONE. 

feelings;  and  I  set  them  down,  because  they  made  a  mark  on 
me.  At  Glen  Doone  I  had  fought,  even  agamst  cannon,  with 
some  spirit  and  fury:  but  now  I  saw  nothing  to  light  about; 
but  rather  in  every  poor  doubled  corpse,  a  good  reason  for  not 
fighting.  So,  in  cold  blood  riding  on,  and  yet  ashamed  that  a 
man  should  shrink  where  a  horse  went  bravely,  I  cast  a  bitter 
blame  upon  the  reckless  ways  of  Winnie. 

Nearly  all  were  scattered  now.  Of  the  noble  countrymen 
(armed  with  scythe,  or  pickaxe,  blacksmith's  hammer,  or  fold- 
pitcher),  who  had  stood  their  ground  for  hours  against  blazing 
musketry,  from  men  whom  they  could  not  get  at,  by  reason  of 
the  water-dyke,  and  then  against  the  deadly  cannon,  dragged 
by  the  Bishop's  horses  to  slaughter  his  own  sheep;  of  these 
sturdy  Englishmen,  noble  in  their  want  of  sense,  scarce  one 
out  of  four  remained  for  the  cowards  to  shoot  down.  "  Cross 
the  rhaine,"  they  shouted  out,  "cross  the  rhaine,  and  coom 
within  rache : "  but  the  other  mongrel  Britons,  with  a  mongrel 
at  their  head,  found  it  pleasanter  to  shoot  men,  who  could  not 
shoot  in  answer,  than  to  meet  the  chance  of  mischief,  from 
strong  arms  and  stronger  hearts. 

The  last  scene  of  this  piteous  play  was  acting,  just  as  I  rode 
up.  Broad  daylight,  and  upstanding  sun,  winnowing  fog  from 
the  eastern  hills,  and  spreading  the  moors  with  freshness ;  all 
along  the  dykes  they  shone,  glistened  on  the  willow-trunks, 
and  touched  the  banks  with  a  hoary  gray.  But  alas !  those 
banks  were  touched  more  deeply  with  a  gory  red,  and  strewn 
with  fallen  trunks,  more  woeful  than  the  wreck  of  trees ;  while 
howling,  cursing,  yelling,  and  the  loathsome  reek  of  carnage, 
drowned  the  scent  of  new-mown  hay,  and  the  carol  of  the  lark. 

Then  the  cavalry  of  the  King,  with  their  horses  at  full  speed, 
dashed  from  either  side  upon  the  helpless  mob  of  countrymen. 
A  few  pikes  feebly  levelled  met  them ;  but  they  shot  the  pike- 
men,  drew  swords,  and  helter-skelter  leaped  into  the  shattered 
and  scattering  mass.  Eight  and  left,  they  hacked  and  hewed; 
I  could  hear  the  snapping  of  scythes  iDcneath  them,  and  see  the 
flash  of  their  sweeping  swords.  How  it  must  end  was  plain 
enough,  even  to  one  like  myself,  who  had  never  beheld  such  a 
battle  before.  But  Winnie  led  me  away  to  the  left;  and  as  I 
could  not  help  the  people,  neither  stop  the  slaughter,  but  found 
the  cannon-bullets  coming  very  rudely  nigh  me,  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  follow  her. 


FALLING  AMONG  LAMBS.  211 

'    CHAPTER  LXV. 

FALLING   AMONG   LAMBS. 

That  faithful  creature,  whom  I  began  to  admire  as  if  she 
were  my  own  (which  is  no  little  thing  for  a  man  to  say  of 
another  man's  horse)  stopped  in  front  of  a  low  black  shed,  such 
as  we  call  a  "  linhay."  And  here  she  uttered  a  little  greeting, 
in  a  subdued  and  softened  voice,  hoping  to  obtain  an  answer, 
such  as  her  master  was  wont  to  give  in  a  cheery  manner. 
Receiving  no  reply,  she  entered ;  and  I  (who  could  scarce  keep 
up  with  her,  poor  Kickums  being  weary)  leaped  from  his  back, 
and  followed.  There  I  found  her  sniffing  gently,  but  with 
great  emotion,  at  the  body  of  Tom  Faggus.  A  corpse  poor 
Tom  appeared  to  be,  if  ever  there  was  one  in  this  Avorld ;  and 
I  turned  away,  and  felt  unable  to  keep  altogether  from  weep- 
ing. But  the  mare  either  could  not  understand,  or  else  would 
not  believe  it.  She  reached  her  long  neck  forth,  and  felt  him 
with  her  under  lip,  passing  it  over  his  skin  as  softly  as  a 
mother  would  do  to  an  infant ;  and  then  she  looked  up  at  me 
again;  as  much  as  to  say,  "He  is  all  right." 

Upon  this  I  took  courage,  and  handled  poor  Tom,  which 
being  young  I  had  feared  at  first  to  do.  He  groaned  very 
feebly,  as  I  raised  him  up;  and  there  was  the  wound,  a  great 
savage  one  (whether  from  pike-thrust  or  musket-ball),  gaping 
and  welling  in  his  right  side,  from  which  a  piece  seemed  to  be 
torn  away.  I  bound  it  up  with  some  of  my  linen,  so  far  as  I 
knew  how;  just  to  stanch  tlie  flow  of  blood,  until  we  could  get 
a  doctor.  Then  I  gave  him  a  little  weak  brandy  and  water, 
which  he  drank  with  the  greatest  eagerness,  and  made  sign  to 
me  for  more  of  it.  But  not  knowing  how  far  it  was  riglit  to 
give  cordial  under  the  circumstances,  I  handed  him  unmixed 
water  that  time;  thinking  that  he  was  too  far  gone  to  perceive 
the  difference.  But  herein  I  wronged  Tom  Faggus;  for  he 
shook  his  head,  and  frowned  at  me.  Even  at  the  door  of  death, 
he  would  not  drink  what  Adam  drank,  by  whom  came  death 
into  the  world.  So  I  gave  him  a  little  more  eau-de-vie,  and  he 
took  it  most  submissively. 

After  that  lie  seemed  better,  and  a  little  color  came  into  his 
cheeks;  and  he  looked  at  Winnie  and  knew  her;  and  would 
liave  her  nose  in  liis  clammy  hand,  though  T  thought  it  not 
good  for  either  of  them.      \Vith  the  stay  of  my  arm  he  sat 


212  LOBNA   DOONE. 

upright,  and  faintly  looked  about  him;  as  if  at  the  end  of  a 
violent  dream,  too  much  for  his  power  of  mind.  Then  he  man- 
aged to  whisper,  "  Is  Winnie  hurt?  " 

"As  sound  as  a  roach,"  I  answered.  "Then  so  am  I,"  said 
he:  "put  me  upon  her  back,  John;  she  and  I  die  together." 

Surprised  as  I  was  at  this  fatalism  (for  so  it  appeared  to 
me),  of  which  he  had  often  shown  symptoms  before  (but  I  took 
them  for  mere  levity),  now  I  knew  not  what  to  do;  for  it 
seemed  to  me  a  murderous  thing  to  set  such  a  man  on  horse- 
back ;  where  he  must  surely  bleed  to  death,  even  if  he  could 
keep  the  saddle.  But  he  told  me,  with  many  breaks  and  pauses, 
that  unless  I  obeyed  his  orders,  he  would  tear  off  all  my  ban- 
dages, and  accept  no  further  aid  from  me. 

While  I  was  yet  hesitating,  a  storm  of  horse  at  full  gallop 
went  by,  tearing,  swearing,  bearing  away  all  the  country  before 
them.  Only  a  little  pollard  hedge  kept  us  from  their  blood- 
shot eyes.  "Now  is  the  time,"  said  my  cousin  Tom,  so  far  as 
I  could  make  out  his  words ;  "  on  their  heels,  I  am  safe,  John, 
if  I  only  have  Winnie  under  me.     Winnie  and  I  die  together." 

Seeing  this  strong  bent  of  his  mind,  stronger  than  any  pains 
of  death,  I  even  did  what  his  feeble  eyes  sometimes  implored, 
and  sometimes  commanded.  With  a  strong  sash,  from  his  own 
hot  neck,  bound  and  twisted,  tight  as  wax,  around  his  dam- 
aged waist,  I  set  him  upon  Winnie's  back,  and  placed  his 
trembling  feet  in  stirrups,  with  a  band  from  one  to  other,  under 
the  good  mare's  body;  so  that  no  swerve  could  throw  him  out: 
and  then  I  said,  "  Lean  forward,  Tom ;  it  will  stop  your  hurt 
from  bleeding."  He  leaned  almost  on  the  neck  of  the  mare, 
which,  as  I  knew,  must  close  the  wound;  and  the  light  of  his 
eyes  was  quite  different,  and  the  pain  of  his  forehead  unstrung 
itself,  as  he  felt  the  undulous  readiness  of  her  volatile  paces 
under  him. 

"  God  bless  you,  John ;  I  am  safe, "  he  whispered,  fearing  to 
open  his  lungs  much:  "who  can  come  near  my  Winnie  mare? 
A  mile  of  her  gallop  is  ten  years  of  life.  Look  out  for  your- 
self, John  Ridd."  He  sucked  his  lips,  and  the  mare  went  off, 
as  easy  and  swift  as  a  swallow. 

"  Well, "  thought  T,  as  I  looked  at  Kickums,  ignobly  cropping 
a  bit  of  grass,  "  I  have  done  a  very  good  thing,  no  doubt,  and 
ought  to  be  thankful  to  God  for  the  chance.  But  as  for  getting 
away  unharmed,  with  all  these  scoundrels  about  me,  and  only 
a  foundered  horse  to  trust  in  —  good  and  spiteful  as  he  is  — 
upon  the  whole,  I  begin  to  think  that  I  have  made  a  fool  of 
myself,  according  to  my  habit.     No  wonder  Tom  said,  'Look 


FALLING  AMONG   LAMBS.  213 

out  for  yourself! '  I  shall  look  out  from  a  prison  window,  or 
perhaps  even  out  of  a  halter.  And  then,  what  will  Lorna  think 
of  me  ?  " 

Being  in  this  wistful  mood,  I  resolved  to  abide  awhile,  even 
where  fate  had  thrown  me ;  for  my  horse  required  good  rest, 
no  doubt,  and  was  taking  it  even  while  he  cropped,  with  his 
hind  legs  far  away  stretched  out,  and  his  fore  legs  gathered 
under  him,  and  his  muzzle  on  the  mole-hills;  so  that  he  had 
five  supportings  from  his  mother  earth.  Moreover  the  linhay 
itself  was  full  of  very  ancient  cow-dung;  than  which  there  is 
no  balmier  and  more  maiden  soporific.  Hence  I  resolved,  upon 
the  whole,  though  grieving  about  breakfast,  to  light  a  pipe,  and 
go  to  sleep;  or  at  least  until  the  hot  sun  should  arouse  the 
flies. 

I  may  have  slept  three  hours,  or  four,  or  it  might  be  even 
five  —  for  I  never  count  time,  while  sleeping  —  when  a  shak- 
ing, more  rude  than  the  old  landlady's,  brought  me  back  to  the 
world  again.  I  looked  up  with  a  mighty  yawn;  and  saw 
twenty,  or  so,  of  foot-soldiers. 

"This  linhay  is  not  yours,"  I  said,  when  they  had  quite 
aroused  me,  with  tongue,  and  hand,  and  even  sword-prick: 
"what  business  have  you  here,  good  fellows?" 

"Business  bad  for  you,"  said  one,  "and  will  lead  you  to  the 
gallows." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  the  way  out  again?  "  I  asked,  very 
quietly,  as  being  no  braggadocio. 

"We  will  show  thee  the  way  out,"  said  one,  "and  the  way 
out  of  the  world,"  said  another :  "  But  not  the  way  to  heaven," 
said  one  chap,  most  unlikely  to  know  it :  and  thereupon  they 
all  fell  wagging,  like  a  bed  of  clover  leaves  in  the  morning,  at 
their  own  choice  humor. 

"Will  you  pile  your  arms  outside,"  I  said,  "and  try  a  bit  of 
fair  play  with  me?" 

For  I  disliked  these  men  sincerely,  and  was  fain  to  teach 
them  a  lesson ;  they  were  so  unchristian  in  appearance,  having 
faces  of  a  coffee  color,  and  dirty  beards  half  over  them.  More- 
over their  dress  was  outrageous,  and  their  address  still  worse. 
However  I  had  wiser  let  them  alone,  as  will  appear  afterwards. 
These  savage-looking  fellows  lauglied  at  the  itlca  of  my  having 
any  chance  against  some  twenty  of  them:  but  I  knew  that  the 
place  was  in  my  favor;  for  my  part  of  it  had  been  fenced  off 
(for  weaning  a  calf  most  likely),  so  that  only  two  could  come  at 
me  at  once;  and  I  must  be  very  mucli  out  of  training,  if  1  could 
not  manage  two  of  them.      Therefore  1  laid  aside  my  carbine, 


214  LOBNA   BOONE. 

and  the  two  liorse-pistols ;  and  they  with  many  coarse  jokes  at 
me  went  a  little  way  outside,  and  set  their  weapons  against  the 
wall,  and  turned  up  their  coat-sleeves  jauntily ;  and  then  began 
to  hesitate. 

"  Go  you  first,  Bob, "  I  heard  them  say ;  "  you  are  the  biggest 
man  of  us ;  and  Dick  the  wrestler  along  of  you.  Us  will  back 
you  up,  boy." 

"I'll  warrant  I'll  draw  the  badger,"  said  Bob;  ''and  not  a 
tooth  will  I  leave  him.  But  mind,  for  the  honor  of  Kirke's 
lambs,  every  man  stands  me  a  glass  of  gin."  Then  he,  and 
another  man,  made  a  rush,  and  the  others  came  double-quick- 
march  on  their  heels.  But  as  Bob  ran  at  me  most  stupidly, 
not  even  knowing  how  to  place  his  hands,  I  caught  him  with 
my  knuckles  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  with  all  the  sway  of 
my  right  arm  sent  him  over  the  heads  of  his  comrades.  Mean- 
while Dick  the  wrestler  had  grappled  me,  expecting  to  show 
off  his  art,  of  which  indeed  he  had  some  small  knowledge;  but 
being  quite  of  the  light  weights,  in  a  second  he  was  flying  after 
his  companion  Bob. 

Now  these  two  men  were  hurt  so  badly,  the  light  one  having 
knocked  his  head  against  the  lintel  of  the  outer  gate,  that  the 
rest  had  no  desire  to  encounter  the  like  misfortune.  So  they 
hung  back  whispering;  and  before  they  had  made  up  their 
minds,  I  rushed  into  the  midst  of  them.  The  suddenness  and 
the  weight  of  my  onset  took  them  wholly  by  surprise ;  and  for 
once  in  their  lives,  perhaps,  Kirke's  lambs  were  worthy  of 
their  names.  Like  a  flock  of  sheep  at  a  dog's  attack,  they  fell 
away,  hustling  one  another,  and  my  only  difficulty  was  not  to 
tumble  over  them. 

I  had  taken  my  carbine  out  with  me,  having  a  fondness  for 
it;  but  the  two  horse-pistols  I  left  behind;  and  therefore  felt 
good  title  to  take  two  from  the  magazine  of  the  lambs.  And 
with  these,  and  my  carbine,  I  leaped  upon  Kickums,  who  was 
now  quite  glad  of  a  gallop  again;  and  I  bade  adieu  to  that 
mongrel  lot ;  yet  they  had  the  meanness  to  shoot  at  me.  Thank- 
ing God  for  my  deliverance  (inasmuch  as  those  men  would 
have  strung  me  up,  from  a  pollard  ash  without  trial,  as  I  heard 
them  tell  one  another,  and  saw  the  tree  they  had  settled  upon), 
I  ventured  to  go  rather  fast  on  my  way,  with  doubt  and  uneasi- 
ness urging  me.  And  now  my  way  was  home  again.  Nobody 
could  say  but  what  I  had  done  my  duty,  and  rescued  Tom  (if 
he  could  be  rescued)  from  the  mischief  into  which  his  own 
perverseness  and  love  of  change  (rather  than  deep  religious 
convictions,  to  which  our  Annie  ascribed  his  outbreak)  had 


FALLING  AMONG  LAMBS.  215 

led,  or  seemed  likely  to  lead  him.  And  how  proud  would  my 
mother  be ;  and  —  ah  well,  there  was  nobody  else  to  be  proud 
of  me  now. 

But  while  thinking  these  things,  and  desiring  my  breakfast, 
beyond  any  power  of  describing,  and  even  beyond  my  remem- 
brance, I  fell  into  another  fold  of  lambs,  from  which  there  was 
no  exit.  These,  like  true  crusaders,  met  me,  swaggering  very 
heartily,  and  with  their  barrels  of  cider  set,  like  so  many  can- 
non, across  the  road,  over  against  a  small  hostel. 

"  We  have  won  the  victor}^,  my  lord  King,  and  we  mean  to 
enjoy  it.  Down  from  thy  horse,  and  have  a  stoup  of  cider, 
thou  big  rebel." 

"  No  rebel  am  I.  My  name  is  John  Ridd.  I  belong  to  the 
side  of  the  King:  and  I  want  some  breakfast." 

These  fellows  were  truly  hospitable ;  that  much  I  will  say 
for  them.  Being  accustomed  to  Arab  ways,  they  could  toss  a 
grill,  or  fritter,  or  the  inner  meaning  of  an  egg,  into  any  form 
they  pleased,  comely  and  very  good  to  eat;  and  it  led  me  to 
think  of  Annie.  So  I  made  the  rarest  breakfast  any  man  might 
hope  for,  after  all  his  troubles;  and  getting  on  with  these 
brown  fellows  better  than  could  be  expected,  I  craved  permis- 
sion to  light  a  pipe,  if  not  disagreeable.  Hearing  this,  they 
roared  at  me,  with  a  superior  laugliter,  and  asked  me,  whether 
or  not,  I  knew  the  tobacco-leaf  from  the  chick-weed;  and  when 
I  was  forced  to  answer  no,  not  having  gone  into  the  subject,  but 
being  content  with  any  thing  brown,  they  clapped  me  on  the 
back,  and  swore  they  had  never  seen  any  one  like  me.  Upon 
the  whole,  this  pleased  me  much;  for  I  do  not  wish  to  be  taken 
always  as  of  the  common  pattern :  and  so  we  smoked  admirable 
tobacco  —  for  they  would  not  have  any  of  mine,  though  very 
courteous  concerning  it  —  and  I  was  beginning  to  understand 
a  little  of  what  they  told  me;  when  up  came  those  confounded 
lambs,  who  had  shown  more  tail  than  head  to  me,  in  the  lin- 
hay,  as  I  mentioned. 

Now  these  men  upset  every  thing.  Having  been  among 
wrestlers  so  much  as  my  duty  compelled  mo  to  be,  and  having 
learned  the  necessity  of  the  rest  which  follows  the  conflict, 
and  the  right  of  discussion  which  all  people  have  who  pay  their 
sixpence  to  enter;  and  liow  they  obtrude  this  right,  and  their 
wisdom,  upon  the  man  who  lias  lalwred,  until  he  forgets  all  the 
work  he  did,  and  begins  to  think  that  they  did  it;  having  some 
knowledge  of  this  sort  of  thing,  and  the  flux  of  minds  swim- 
ming in  lif[uor,  I  foresaw  a  brawl,  as  ])lainly  as  if  it  were  Bear 
Street  in  Barnstaple. 


216  LORNA   DOONE. 

And  a  brawl  there  was,  without  any  error,  except  of  the 
men  who  hit  their  friends,  and  those  who  defended  their  ene- 
mies. My  partners  in  beer-can,  and  tobacco,  swore  that  I  was 
no  prisoner,  but  the  best  and  most  loyal  subject,  and  the  finest- 
hearted  fellow  they  had  ever  the  luck  to  meet  with.  Whereas 
the  men  from  the  linhay  swore  that  I  was  a  rebel  miscreant; 
and  have  me  they  would,  with  a  rope's-end  ready,  in  spite  of 
every  [violent  language]  who  had  got  drunk  at  my  expense, 
and  been  misled  by  my  [strong  word]  lies. 

While  this  fight  was  going  on  (and  its  mere  occurrence  shows, 
perhaps,  that  my  conversation  in  those  days  was  not  entirely 
despicable  —  else  why  should  my  new  friends  fight  for  me, 
when  I  had  paid  for  the  ale,  and  therefore  won  the  wrong  tense 
of  gratitude?)  it  was  in  my  power  at  any  moment  to  take  horse 
and  go.  And  this  would  have  been  my  wisest  plan,  and  a  very 
great  saving  of  money ;  but  somehow  I  felt  as  if  it  would  be  a 
mean  thing  to  slip  off  so.  Even  while  I  was  hesitating,  and 
the  men  were  breaking  each  other's  heads,  a  superior  officer 
rode  up,  with  his  sword  drawn,  and  his  face  on  fire. 

"  What,  my  lambs,  my  lambs !  "  he  cried,  smiting  with  the 
flat  of  his  sword;  ''is  this  how  you  waste  my  time,  and  my 
purse,  when  you  ought  to  be  catching  a  hundred  prisoners, 
worth  ten  pounds  apiece  to  me?  Who  is  this  young  fellow 
we  have  here?  Speak  up,  sirrah;  what  art  thou,  and  how 
much  will  thy  good  mother  pay  for  thee?" 

" My  mother  will  pay  naught  for  me,"  I  answered;  while 
the  lambs  fell  back  and  glowered  at  one  another :  "  so  please 
your  worship,  I  am  no  rebel;  but  an  honest  farmer,  and  well- 
proved  of  loyalty." 

"Ha,  ha!  a  farmer  art  thou?  Those  fellows  always  pay  the 
best.  Good  farmer,  come  to  yon  barren  tree ;  thou  shalt  make 
it  fruitful." 

Colonel  Kirke  made  a  sign  to  his  men,  and  before  I  could 
think  of  resistance,  stout  new  ropes  were  flung  around  me; 
and  with  three  men  on  either  side,  I  was  led  along  very  pain- 
fully. And  now  I  saw,  and  repented  deeply  of  my  careless 
folly,  in  stopping  with  those  boon-companions,  instead  of  being 
far  away.  But  the  newness  of  their  manners  to  me,  and  their 
mode  of  regarding  the  world  (differing  so  much  from  mine 
own),  as  well  as  the  flavor  of  their  tobacco,  had  made  me  quite 
forget  my  duty  to  the  farm  and  to  myself.  Yet  methought 
they  would  be  tender  to  me,  after  all  our  speeches :  how  then 
was  I  disappointed,  when  the  men  who  had  drunk  my  beer, 
drew  on  those  grievous  ropes,  twice  as  hard  as  the  men  I  had 


TlMi    MKN     kAISlilJ    lHl;il<     I'IKCCS,    AND    POINTKD     AT    Mli."  — Vol.    11.    p.    21?. 


FALLING  AMONG  LAMBS.  217 

been  at  strife  with!  Yet  this  may  have  been  from  no  ill  will; 
but  simply  that  having  fallen  under  suspicion  of  laxity,  they 
were  compelled,  in  self-defence,  now  to  be  over-zealous.  Never- 
theless, however  pure  and  godly  might  be  their  motives,  I 
beheld  myself  in  a  grievous  case,  and  likely  to  get  the  worst 
of  it.  For  the  face  of  the  Colonel  was  hard  and  stern  as  a 
block  of  bogwood  oak;  and  though  the  men  might  pity  me,  and 
think  me  unjustly  executed,  yet  they  must  obey  their  orders, 
or  themselves  be  put  to  death.  Therefore  I  addressed  myself 
to  the  Colonel,  in  a  most  ingratiating  manner;  begging  him  not 
to  sully  the  glory  of  his  victory,  and  dwelling  upon  my  pure 
innocence,  and  even  good  service  to  our  lord  the  King.  But 
Colonel  Kirke  only  gave  command  that  I  should  be  smitten  in 
the  mouth ;  which  office  Bob,  whom  I  had  flung  so  hard  out  of 
the  linhay,  performed  with  great  zeal  and  efficiency.  But 
being  aware  of  the  coming  smack,  I  thrust  forth  a  pair  of 
teeth;  upon  which  the  knuckles  of  my  good  friend  made  a 
melancholy  shipwreck. 

It  is  not  in  my  power  to  tell  half  the  thoughts  that  moved 
me,  when  we  came  to  the  fatal  tree,  and  saw  two  men  hanging 
there  already,  as  innocent  perhaps  as  I  was,  and  henceforth 
entirely  harmless.  Though  ordered  by  the  Colonel  to  look 
steadfastly  upon  them,  I  could  not  bear  to  do  so :  upon  which 
he  called  me  a  paltry  coward,  and  promised  my  breeches  to  any 
man  who  would  spit  upon  my  countenance.  This  vile  thing 
Bob,  being  angered  perhaps  by  the  smarting  wound  of  his 
knuckles,  bravely  stepped  forward  to  do  for  me,  trusting  no 
doubt  to  the  rope  I  was  led  with.  But,  unluckily  as  it  proved 
for  him,  my  right  arm  was  free  for  a  moment;  and  therewith 
I  dealt  him  such  a  blow,  that  he  never  spake  again.  For  this 
thing  I  have  often  grieved ;  but  the  provocation  was  very  sore 
to  the  pride  of  a  young  man ;  and  I  trust  that  God  has  forgiven 
me.  At  the  sound  and  sight  of  that  bitter  stroke,  the  other 
men  drew  back;  and  Colonel  Kirke,  now  black  in  the  face  with 
fury  and  vexation,  gave  orders  for  to  shoot  me,  and  cast  me 
into  the  ditch  hard  by.  The  men  raised  their  pieces,  and 
pointed  at  me,  waiting  for  the  word  to  fire;  and  I,  being  quite 
overcome  by  the  hurry  of  these  events,  and  quite  unprepared 
to  die  yet,  could  only  think  all  upside  down  about  Lorna,  and  my 
mother,  and  wonder  what  each  would  say  to  it.  I  spread  my 
hands  before  my  eyes,  not  being  so  brave  as  some  men;  and 
hoping,  in  some  foolisli  way,  to  cover  my  lieart  witli  my  elbows. 
1  heard  the  breath  of  all  around,  as  if  my  skull  were  a  sound- 
ing-board ;  and  knew  even  how  the  different  men  were  fingering 


218  LORNA   BOONE. 

their  triggers.  And  a  cold  sweat  broke  all  over  me,  as  the 
Colonel,  prolonging  his  enjoyment,  began  slowly  to  say,  "Fire." 

But  while  he  was  yet  dwelling  on  the  "F,"  the  hoofs  of  a 
horse  dashed  out  on  the  road,  and  horse  and  horseman  flung 
themselves  betwixt  me  and  the  gun-muzzles.  So  narrowly 
was  I  saved,  that  one  man  could  not  check  his  trigger:  his 
musket  went  off,  and  the  ball  struck  the  horse  on  the  withers, 
and  scared  him  exceedingly.  He  began  to  lash  out  with  his 
heels  all  around,  and  the  Colonel  was  glad  to  keep  clear  of 
him;  and  the  men  made  excuse  to  lower  their  guns,  not  really 
wishing  to  shoot  me. 

"How  now.  Captain  Stickles?"  cried  Kirke,  the  more  angry 
because  he  had  shown  his  cowardice;  "dare  you,  sir,  to  come 
betwixt  me  and  my  lawful  prisoner?" 

"Nay,  hearken  one  moment,  Colonel,"  replied  my  old  friend 
Jeremy ;  and  his  damaged  voice  was  the  sweetest  sound  I  had 
heard  for  many  a  day;  "for  your  own  sake  hearken."  He 
looked  so  full  of  momentous  tidings,  that  Colonel  Kirke  made 
a  sign  to  his  men,  not  to  shoot  me  till  further  orders;  and 
then  he  went  aside  with  Stickles,  so  that  in  spite  of  all  my 
anxiety  I  could  not  catch  what  passed  between  them.  But  I 
fancied  that  the  name  of  the  Lord  Chief -Justice  Jeffreys  was 
spoken  more  than  once,  and  with  emphasis,  and  deference. 

"Then  I  leave  him  in  your  hands,  Captain  Stickles,"  said 
Kirke  at  last,  so  that  all  might  hear  him;  and  though  the 
news  was  so  good  for  me,  the  smile  of  bafiled  malice  made  his 
dark  face  look  most  hideous ;  "  and  I  shall  hold  you  answera- 
ble for  the  custody  of  this  prisoner." 

"Colonel  Kirke,  I  will  answer  for  him,"  Master  Stickles 
replied,  with  a  grave  bow,  and  one  hand  on  his  breast:  "John 
Ridd,  you  are  my  prisoner.     Follow  me,  John  Ridd." 

Upon  that,  those  precious  lambs  flocked  away,  leaving  the 
rope  still  around  me;  and  some  were  glad,  and  some  were 
sorry,  not  to  see  me  swinging.  Being  free  of  my  arms  again, 
I  touched  my  hat  to  Colonel  Kirke,  as  became  his  rank  and 
experience;  but  he  did  not  condescend  to  return  my  short 
salutation,  having  espied  in  the  distance  a  prisoner,  out  of 
whom  he  might  make  money. 

I  wrung  the  hand  of  Jeremy  Stickles,  for  his  truth  and 
goodness;  and  he  almost  wept  (for  since  his  wound,  he  had 
been  a  weakened  man)  as  he  ansAvered,  "  Turn  for  turn,  John. 
You  saved  my  life  from  the  Doones ;  and  by  the  mercy  of  God, 
I  have  saved  you  from  a  far  worse  company.  Let  your  sister 
Annie  know  it." 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  219 

CHAPTER   LXVI. 

SUITABLE    DEVOTION. 

Now  Kickums  was  not  like  Winnie,  any  more  than  a  man  is 
like  a  woman;  and  so  he  had  not  followed  my  fortunes,  except 
at  his  own  distance.  No  doubt  but  what  he  felt  a  certain  in- 
terest in  me;  but  his  interest  was  not  devotion;  and  man 
might  go  his  way  and  be  hanged,  rather  than  horse  would 
meet  hardship.  Therefore  seeing  things  to  be  bad,  and  his 
master  involved  in  trouble,  what  did  the  horse  do  but  start 
for  the  ease  and  comfort  of  Plover's  Barrows,  and  the  plenti- 
ful ration  of  oats  abiding  in  his  own  manger.  For  that  I  do 
not  blame  him.     It  is  the  manner  of  mankind. 

But  I  could  not  help  being  very  uneasy  at  the  thought  of 
my  mother's  discomfort  and  worry,  when  she  should  spy  this 
good  horse  coming  home,  without  any  master,  or  rider,  and  I 
almost  hoped  that  he  might  be  caught  (although  he  was  worth 
at  least  twenty  pounds)  by  some  of  the  King's  troopers,  rather 
than  find  his  way  home,  and  spread  distress  among  our 
people.  Yet  knowing  his  nature,  I  doubted  if  any  could 
catch,  or  catching,  would  keep  him. 

Jeremy  Stickles  assured  me,  as  we  took  the  road  to  Bridge- 
water,  that  the  only  chance  for  my  life  (if  I  still  refused  to 
fly)  was  to  obtain  an  order  forthwith  for  m'y  dispatch  to  Lon- 
don, as  a  suspected  person  indeed,  but  not  found  in  open 
rebellion,  and  believed  to  be  under  the  patronage  of  the  great 
Lord  Jeffreys.  "For,"  said  he,  ''in  a  few  hours'  time,  yoii 
would  fall  into  the  hands  of  Lord  Feversham,  who  has  won 
this  fight,  without  seeing  it,  and  who  has  returned  to  bed 
again,  to  have  his  breakfast  more  comfortably.  Now  he  may 
not  be  quite  so  savage  perhaps  as  Colonel  Kirke,  nor  find  so 
much  sport  in  gibbeting;  but  he  is  equally  pitiless,  and  his 
price  no  doubt  would  be  higher." 

"I  will  pay  no  price  whatever,"  I  answered,  "neither  will  I 
fly.  An  hour  agone  I  would  have  fled,  for  the  sake  of  my 
mother,  and  the  farm.  But  now  that  I  have  been  taken  pris- 
oner, and  my  name  is  known,  if  I  fly,  the  farm  is  forfeited; 
and  my  motiier  and  sister  must  starve.  Moreover,  I  have  done 
no  harm;  I  have  borne  no  weapons  against  the  King,  nor 
desired  the  success  of  his  enemies.  T  like  not  tliat  the  son  of 
a  Ijona-roba  should  be  King  of  England,  neither  do  1  count 


220  LORNA  BOONS. 

the  papists  any  worse  than  we  are.  If  they  have  aught  to  try 
me  for,  I  will  stand  my  trial." 

"  Then  to  London  thou  must  go,  my  son.  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  trial  here :  we  hang  the  good  folk  without  it,  which 
saves  them  much  anxiety.  But  quicken  thy  step,  good  John; 
I  have  influence  with  Lord  Churchill,  and  we  must  contrive  to 
see  him,  ere  the  foreigner  falls  to  work  again.  Lord  Churchill 
is  a  man  of  sense,  and  imprisons  nothing  but  his  money." 

We  were  lucky  enough  to  find  this  nobleman,  who  has  since 
become  so  famous  by  his  foreign  victories.  He  received  us 
with  great  civility;  and  looked  at  me  with  much  interest, 
being  a  tall  and  fine  young  man  himself,  but  not  to  compare 
with  me  in  size,  although  far  better  favored.  I  liked  his  face 
well  enough,  but  thought  there  was  something  false  about  it. 
He  put  me  a  few  keen  questions,  such  as  a  man  not  assured  of 
honesty  might  have  found  hard  to  answer;  and  he  stood  in 
a  very  upright  attitude,  making  the  most  of  his  figure. 

I  saw  nothing  to  be  proud  of,  at  the  moment,  in  this  inter- 
view; but  since  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough  rose  to  the 
top  of  glory,  I  have  tried  to  remember  more  about  him  than 
my  conscience  quite  backs  up.  How  should  I  know  that  this 
man  would  be  foremost  in  our  kingdom  in  five-and-twenty 
years  or  so ;  and  not  knowing,  why  should  I  heed  him,  except 
for  my  own  pocket?  Nevertheless  I  have  been  so  cross-ques- 
tioned —  far  worse  than  by  young  Lord  Churchill  —  about  His 
Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  what  he  said  to  me,  and 
what  I  said  then,  and  how  His  Grace  replied  to  that,  and 
whether  he  smiled  like  another  man,  or  screwed  up  his  lips 
like  a  button  (as  our  parish  tailor  said  of  him),  and  whether  I 
knew  from  the  turn  of  his  nose  that  no  Frenchman  could 
stand  before  him;  all  these  inquiries  have  worried  me  so, 
ever  since  the  battle  of  Blenheim,  that  if  tailors  would  only 
print  upon  waistcoats,  I  would  give  double  price  for  a  vest 
bearing  this  inscription,  "  No  information  can  be  given  about 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough." 

Now  this  good  Lord  Churchill  —  for  one  might  call  him 
good,  by  comparison  with  the  very  bad  people  around  him  — 
granted,  without  any  long  hesitation,  the  order  for  my  safe 
deliverance  to  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  at  Westminster;  and 
Stickles,  who  had  to  report  in  London,  was  empowered  to  con- 
vey me,  and  made  answerable  for  producing  me.  This  arrange- 
ment would  have  been  entirely  to  my  liking,  although  the  time 
of  year  was  bad  for  leaving  Plover's  Barrows  so;  but  no  man 
may  quite  choose  his  times,  and  on  the  whole  I  would  have 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  221 

been  quite  content  to  visit  London,  if  my  mother  could  be 
warned  that  nothing  was  amiss  with  me,  only  a  mild,  and  as 
one  might  say,  nominal  captivity.  And  to  prevent  her 
anxiety,  I  did  my  best  to  send  a  letter  through  good  Serjeant 
Bloxham,  of  whom  I  heard  as  quartered  Avith  Dumbarton's 
regiment  at  Chedzuy.  But  that  regiment  was  away  in  pur- 
suit ;  and  I  was  forced  to  entrust  my  letter  to  a  man  who  said 
that  he  knew  him,  and  accepted  a  shilling  to  see  to  it. 

For  fear  of  any  unpleasant  change,  we  set  forth  at  once  for 
London;  and  truly  thankful  may  I  be  that  God  in  His  mercy 
spared  me  the  sight  of  the  cruel  and  bloody  work,  with  which 
the  whole  country  reeked  and  howled,  during  the  next  fort- 
night. I  have  heard  things  that  set  my  hair  on  end,  and  made 
me  loathe  good  meat  for  days;  but  I  make  a  point  of  setting 
down  only  the  things  which  I  saw  done :  and  in  this  particu- 
lar case,  not  many  will  quarrel  with  my  decision.  Enough, 
therefore,  that  we  rode  on  (for  Stickles  had  found  me  a  horse 
at  last)  as  far  as  Wells,  where  we  slept  that  night;  and  being 
joined  in  the  morning  by  several  troopers  and  orderlies,  we 
made  a  slow  but  safe  journey  to  London,  by  way  of  Bath,  and 
Reading. 

The  sight  of  London  warmed  my  heart  with  various  emo- 
tions, such  as  a  cordial  man  must  draw  from  the  heart  of  all 
humanity.  Here  there  are  quick  ways  and  manners,  and  the 
rapid  sense  of  knowledge,  and  the  power  of  understanding, 
ere  a  word  be  spoken.  Whereas  at  Oare,  you  may  say  a  thing 
three  times,  very  slowly,  before  it  gets  inside  the  skull  of  the 
good  man  you  are  addressing.  And  yet  we  are  far  more  clever 
there,  than  in  any  parish  for  fifteen  miles. 

But  Avhat  moved  me  most,  when  T  saw  again  the  noble  oil 
and  tallow  of  the  London  lights,  and  the  dripping  torches  at 
almost  every  corner,  and  the  handsome  sign-boards,  was  the 
thought  that  here  my  Lorna  lived,  and  walked,  and  took  the 
air,  and  perhaps  thought,  now  and  then,  of  the  old  days  in 
the  good  farmhouse.  Although  I  would  make  no  approach  to 
her,  any  more  than  she  had  done  to  me  (upon  whicli  grief  I 
have  not  dwelt,  for  fear  of  seeming  selfish),  yet  thert;  must  be 
some  large  chance,  or  the  little  chance  might  be  enlarged,  of 
falling  in  with  the  maiden  somehow,  and  learning  how  her 
mind  Avas  set.  If  against  me,  all  should  be  over.  [  was  not 
the  man  to  sigh  and  cry  for  love,  like  a  hot-brained  Komeo : 
none  should  even  guess  my  grief,  except  my  sister  Annie. 

But  if  Lorna  loved  me  still  —  as  in  my  heart  of  licarts  T 
hoped  —  then  would  I  for  no  one  care,  except  her  own  deli- 


222  LOBNA   BOONE. 

cious  self.    Rank  and.  title,  wealth  and  grandeur,  all  should  go 
to  the  winds,  before  they  scared  me  from  my  own  true  love. 

Thinking  thus,  I  went  to  bed  in  the  centre  of  London  town, 
and  was  bitten  so  grievously,  by  creatures  whose  name  is 
"Legion,"  mad  with  the  delight  of  getting  a  wholesome 
farmer  among  them,  that  verily  I  was  ashamed  to  walk  in  the 
courtly  parts  of  the  toAvn  next  day,  having  lumps  upon  my 
face  the  size  of  a  pickling  walnut.  The  landlord  said  that 
this  was  nothing;  and  that  he  expected,  in  two  days  at  the 
utmost,  a  very  fresh  young  Irishman,  for  whom  they  would  all 
forsake  me.  Nevertheless,  I  declined  to  wait,  unless  he  could 
find,  me  a  hayrick  to  sleep  in;  for  the  insects  of  grass  only 
tickle.  He  assured  me  that  no  hayrick  could  now  be  found 
in  London;  upon  which  I  was  forced  to  leave  him,  and  with 
mutual  esteem  we  parted. 

The  next  night  I  had  better  luck,  being  introduced  to  a 
decent  widow,  of  very  high  Scotch  origin.  That  house  was 
swept  and  garnished  so,  that  not  a  bit  was  left  to  eat,  for 
either  man  or  insect.  The  change  of  air  having  made  me 
hungry,  I  wanted  something  after  supper;  being  quite  ready 
to  pay  for  it,  and  showing  my  purse  as  a  symptom.  But  the 
face  of  Widow  MacAlister,  when  I  proposed  to  have  some 
more  food,  was  a  thing  to  be  drawn  (if  it  could  be  drawn  fur- 
ther) by  our  new  caricaturist. 

Therefore  I  left  her  also ;  for  liefer  would  I  be  eaten  myself 
than  have  nothing  to  eat ;  and  so  I  came  back  to  my  old  fur- 
rier; the  which  was  a  thoroughly  hearty  man,  and  welcomed 
me  to  my  room  again,  with  two  shillings  added  to  the  rent  in 
the  joy  of  his  heart  at  seeing  me.  Being  under  parole  to 
Master  Stickles,  I  only  went  out  betwixt  certain  hours;  be- 
cause I  was  accounted  as  liable  to  be  called  upon;  for  what 
purpose  I  knew  not,  but  hoped  it  might  be  a  good  one.  I  felt 
it  a  loss,  and  a  hindrance  to  me,  that  I  was  so  bound  to  remain 
at  home,  during  the  session  of  the  courts  of  law;  for  thereby 
the  chance  of  ever  beholding  Lorna  was  greatly  damaged,  if 
not  altogether  done  away  with.  For  these  were  the  very  hours 
in  which  the  people  of  fashion,  and  the  high  world,  were  wont 
to  appear  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  so  as  to  encourage  them. 
And  of  course  by  this  time,  the  Lady  Lorna  was  high  among 
people  of  fashion,  and  was  not  likely  to  be  seen  out  of  fasli- 
ionable  hours.  It  is  true  that  there  were  some  places  of 
expensive  entertainment,  at  which  the  better  sort  of  mankind 
might  be  seen  and  studied,  in  their  hours  of  relaxation,  by 
those  of  the  lower  order,  who  could  pay  sufficiently.     But  alas, 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  223 

my  money  was  getting  low;  and  the  privilege  of  seeing  my 
betters  was  more  and  more  denied  to  me,  as  my  casli  drew 
shorter.  For  a  man  mnst  have  a  good  coat  at  least,  and  the 
pockets  not  wholly  empty,  before  he  can  look  at  those  whom 
God  has  created  for  his  ensample. 

Hence,  and  from  many  other  causes  —  part  of  which  was 
my  own  pride  —  it  happened  that  I  abode  in  London,  betwixt 
a  month  and  five  weeks'  time,  ere  ever  I  saw  Lorna.  It 
seemed  unfit  that  I  should  go,  and  waylay  her,  and  spy  on  her, 
and  say  (or  mean  to  say),  "Lo,  here  is  your  poor  faithful 
farmer,  a  man  who  is  unworthy  of  you,  by  means  of  his  com- 
mon birth;  and  yet  who  dares  to  crawl  across  your  path,  that 
you  may  pity  him.  For  God's  sake  show  a  little  pity,  though 
you  may  not  feel  it."  Such  behavior  might  be  comely  in  a 
love-lorn  boy,  a  page  to  some  grand  princess;  but  I,  John 
Ridd,  would  never  stoop  to  the  lowering  of  love  so. 

Nevertheless  I  heard  of  Lorna,  from  my  worthy  furrier, 
almost  every  day,  and  with  a  fine  exaggeration.  This  honest 
man  was  one  of  those  who,  in  virtue  of  their  trade,  and 
nicety  of  behavior,  are  admitted  into  noble  life,  to  take  meas- 
urements, and  show  patterns.  And  while  so  doing,  they  con- 
trive to  acquire  what  is  to  the  English  mind  at  once  the  most 
important,  and  most  interesting  of  all  knowledge, —  the 
science  of  being  able  to  talk  about  the  titled  people.  So  my 
furrier  (whose  name  was  Ramsack),  having  to  make  robes  for 
peers,  and  cloaks  for  their  wives  and  otherwise,  knew  the 
great  folk,  sham  or  real,  as  well  as  he  knew  a  fox,  or  skunk, 
from  a  wolverine  skin. 

And  when,  with  some  fencing  and  foils  of  inquiry,  I  hinted 
about  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,  the  old  man's  face  became  so  pleas- 
ant, that  I  knew  her  birth  must  be  wondrous  high.  At  this 
my  own  countenance  fell,  I  suppose, —  for  the  better  she  was 
born,  the  harder  she  would  be  to  marry  —  and  mistaking  my 
object,  he  took  me  up :  — 

"Perhaps  you  think,  Master  Ridd,  that  because  her  lady- 
ship. Lady  Lorna  Dugal,  is  of  Scottish  origin,  therefore  lier 
birth  is  not  as  higli  as  of  our  English  nol)ility.  If  you  tliink 
so,  you  are  wrong,  sir.  She  comes  not  of  the  sandy  Scotch 
race,  with  higli  cheek-bones,  and  raw  shoulder-blades,  wlio  s(^t 
up  pillars  in  their  court-yards.  But  she  comes  of  the  very 
best  Scotch  blood,  descended  from  the  Norsemen.  Her  mother 
was  of  the  very  noblest  race,  tlie  Lords  of  Lome;  higher  even 
than  tlie  great  Argyle,  wlio  lias  lately  made  a  sad  mistake,  and 
paid  for  it  most  sadly.     And  her  father  was  descended  from 


224  LOBNA   DOONE. 

the  King  Dugal,  who  fought  against  Alexander  the  Great. 
No,  no,  Master  Ridd;  none  of  your  promiscuous  blood,  such 
as  runs  in  the  veins  of  half  our  modern  peerage." 

"Why  should  you  trouble  yourself  about  it,  Master  Eam- 
sack?"  I  replied:  "let  them  all  go  their  own  ways:  and  let 
us  all  look  up  to  them,  whether  they  come  by  hook  or  crook. " 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  my  lad.  That  is  not  the  way  to 
regard  it.  We  look  up  at  the  well-born  folk,  and  sideways 
at  the  base-born." 

"  Then  we  are  all  base-born  ourselves.  I  will  look  up  to  no 
man,  except  for  what  himself  has  done." 

"  Come,  Master  Eidd,  you  might  be  lashed,  from  Newgate  to 
Tyburn,  and  back  again,  once  a  week,  for  a  twelvemonth,  if 
some  people  heard  you.  Keep  your  tongue  more  close,  young 
man;  or  here  you  lodge  no  longer;  albeit  I  love  your  com- 
pany, which  smells  to  me  of  the  hay-field.  Ah,  I  have  not 
seen  a  hay-field,  for  nine-and-twenty  years,  John  Ridd.  The 
cursed  moths  keep  me  at  home  every  day  of  the  summer." 

"  Spread  your  furs  on  the  haycocks,"  I  answered  very  boldly : 
"the  indoor  moth  cannot  abide  the  presence  of  the  outdoor 
ones." 

"Is  it  so?"  he  answered:  "I  never  thought  of  that  before. 
And  yet  I  have  known  such  strange  things  happen  in  the  way 
of  fur,  that  I  can  well  believe  it.  If  you  only  knew,  John 
Ridd,  the  way  in  which  they  lay  their  eggs,  and  how  they 
work  tail-foremost " 

"Tell  me  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  replied,  with  equal  con- 
fidence: "they  cannot  work  tail-foremost;  and  they  have  no 
tails  to  work  with."  For  I  knew  a  little  about  grubs,  and  the 
ignorance  concerning  them,  which  we  have  no  right  to  put  up 
with.  However,  not  to  go  into  that  (for  the  argument  lasted 
a  fortnight ;  and  then  was  only  come  so  far  as  to  begin  again), 
Master  Ramsack  soon  convinced  me  of  the  things  I  knew 
already;  the  excellence  of  Lorna's  birth,  as  well  as  her  lofty 
place  at  Court,  and  beauty,  and  wealth,  and  elegance.  But 
all  these  only  made  me  sigh,  and  wish  that  I  were  born  to 
them. 

From  Master  Ramsack  I  discovered  that  the  nobleman,  to 
whose  charge  Lady  Lorna  had  been  committed,  by  the  Court 
of  Chancery,  was  Earl  Brandir  of  Lochawe,  her  poor  mother's 
uncle.  For  the  Countess  of  Dugal  was  daughter,  and  only 
child,  of  the  last  Lord  Lome,  whose  sister  had  married  Sir 
Ensor  Doone ;  while  he  himself  had  married  the  sister  of  Earl 
Brandir.     This  nobleman  had  a  country  house  near  the  village 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  225 

of  Kensington;  and  Iiere  liis  niece  dwelled  with  him,  when  she 
was  not  in  attendance  on  Her  Majesty  the  Queen,  who  had 
taken  a  liking  to  her.  Kow  since  the  King  had  begun  to 
attend  the  celebration  of  mass  in  the  chapel  at  Whitehall, — 
and  not  at  Westminster  Abbey,  as  our  gossips  had  averred  — 
he  had  given  order  that  the  doors  should  be  thrown  open,  so 
that  all  who  could  make  interest  to  get  into  the  antechamber, 
might  see  this  form  of  worship.  Master  Eamsack  told  me 
that  Lorna  was  there  almost  every  Sunday;  their  Majesties 
being  most  anxious  to  have  the  presence  of  all  the  nobility  of 
the  Catholic  persuasion,  so  as  to  make  a  goodly  show.  And 
the  worthy  furrier,  having  influence  with  the  door  keepers, 
kindly  obtained  admittance  for  me,  one  Sunday,  into  the 
antechamber. 

Here  I  took  care  to  be  in  waiting,  before  the  Eoyal  proces- 
sion entered;  but  being  unknown,  and  of  no  high  rank,  I  was 
not  allowed  to  stand  forward  among  the  better  people,  but 
ordered  back  into  a  corner  very  dark  and  dismal;  the  verger 
remarking,  with  a  grin,  that  I  could  see  over  all  other  heads, 
and  must  not  set  my  own  so  high.  Being  frightened  to  find 
myself  among  so  many  people,  of  great  rank  and  gorgeous 
apparel,  I  blushed  at  the  notice  drawn  upon  me  by  tliis  uncour- 
teous  fellow,  and  silently  fell  back  into  the  corner  by  the 
hangings. 

You  may  suppose  that  my  heart  beat  high,  when  the  King, 
and  Queen,  appeared,  and  entered,  followed  by  the  Duke  of 
Xorfolk  bearing  the  sword  of  state,  and  by  several  other 
noblemen,  and  people  of  repute.  Then  the  doors  of  the 
chapel  were  thrown  wide  open ;  and  thougli  I  could  only  see  a 
little,  being  in  the  corner  so,  I  thought  that  it  was  beautiful. 

l^owers  of  rich  silk  were  there,  and  plenty  of  metal  shin- 
ing, and  polished  wood  with  lovely  carving,  flowers  too  of  the 
noblest  kind,  and  candles  made  by  somebody  who  had  learned 
how  to  clarify  tallow.  Tliis  last  thing  amazed  me  more  than 
all,  for  our  dips  never  will  come  clear,  melt  the  mutton  fat 
how  you  will.  And  methought  that  this  hanging  of  flowers 
about  was  a  very  pretty  thing;  for  if  a  man  can  worship)  God 
best  of  all  beneath  a  tree,  as  the  natural  instinct  is,  surely 
when  by  fault  of  climate  the  tree  would  be  too  ajDt  to  drip, 
the  very  best  make-believe  is  to  have  enough  and  to  spare  of 
flowers;  whicli  to  tlie  dwellers  in  London  seem  to  have  grown 
on  the  tree  denied  them. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  when  the  King  and  Queen  crossed  the 
threshold,  a  mighty  flourish  of  trumpets  arose,  and  a  waving 
VOL.  n.  — 15 


226  LORNA   DOONE. 

of  banners.  The  Knights  of  the  Garter  (whoever  they  be) 
were  to  attend  that  day  in  state ;  and  some  went  in,  and  some 
stayed  out,  and  it  made  me  think  of  the  difference  betwixt 
the  ewes  and  the  wethers.  For  the  ewes  will  ejo  wherever 
you  lead  them ;  but  the  wethers  will  not,  having  strong  opin- 
ions, and  meaning  to  abide  by  them.  And  one  man  I  noticed 
was  of  the  wethers,  to  wit  the  Duke  of  Norfolk;  who  stopped 
outside  with  the  sword  of  state,  like  a  beadle  with  a  rapping-, 
rod.  This  has  taken  more  time  to  tell  than  the  time  it  hap- 
pened in.  For  after  all  the  men  were  gone,  some  to  this  side, 
some  to  that,  according  to  their  feelings,  a  number  of  ladies, 
beautifully  dressed,  being  of  the  Queen's  retinue,  began  to 
enter,  and  were  stared  at  three  times  as  much  as  the  men  had 
been.  And  indeed  they  were  worth  looking  at  (which  men 
never  are  to  my  ideas,  when  they  trick  themselves  with  gew- 
gaws), but  none  was  so  well  worth  eye-service  as  my  own 
beloved  Lorna.  She  entered  modestly  and  shyly,  with  her 
eyes  upon  the  ground,  knowing  the  rudeness  of  the  gallants, 
and  the  large  sum  she  was  priced  at.  Her  dress  was  of  the 
purest  white,  very  sweet  and  simple,  without  a  line  of  orna- 
ment, for  she  herself  adorned  it.  The  way  she  walked,  and 
touched  her  skirt  (rather  than  seemed  to  hold  it  up),  with  a 
white  hand  bearing  one  red  rose,  this,  and  her  stately  supple 
neck,  and  the  flowing  of  her  hair  would  show,  at  a  distance  of 
a  hundred  yards,  tliat  she  could  be  none  but  Lorna  Doone  — 
Lorna  Doone  of  my  early  love ;  in  the  days  when  she  blushed 
for  her  name  before  me,  by  reason  of  dishonesty ;  but  now  the 
Lady  Lorna  Dugal ;  as  far  beyond  reproach  as  above  my  poor 
affection.  All  my  heart,  and  all  my  mind,  gathered  them- 
selves upon  her.  Would  she  see  me,  or  would  she  pass? 
Was  there  instinct  in  our  love? 

By  some  strange  chance  she  saw  me.  Or  was  it  through  our 
destiny?  While  with  eyes  kept  sedulously  on  the  marble 
floor,  to  shun  the  weight  of  admiration  thrust  too  boldly  on 
them,  while  with  shy  quick  steps  she  passed,  some  one  (per- 
haps with  purpose,)  trod  on  the  skirt  of  her  clear  white  dress, 
—  with  the  quickness  taught  her  by  many  a  scene  of  danger, 
she  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  met  mine. 

As  I  gazed  upon  her,  steadfastly,  yearningly,  yet  with  some 
reproach,  and  more  of  pride  than  humility,  she  made  me  one 
of  the  courtly  bows  which  I  do  so  much  detest;  yet  even  that 
was  sweet  and  graceful,  when  my  Lorna  did  it.  But  the  color 
of  her  pure  clear  cheeks  was  nearly  as  deep  as  that  of  my 
own,  when  she  went  on  for  the  religious  work.  And  the 
shining  of  her  eyes  was  owing  to  an  unpaid  debt  of  tears. 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  227 

Upon  the  whole  I  was  satisfied.  Lorna  had  seen  me,  and 
had  not  (according  to  the  phrase  of  the  high  worhl  then)  even 
tried  to  "  cut "  me.  Whetlier  this  low  phrase  is  born  of  their 
own  stupid  meanness,  or  whether  it  comes  of  necessity  exer- 
cised on  a  man  without  money,  I  know  not,  and  I  care  not. 
But  one  thing  I  know  right  Avell;  any  man  who  "cuts  "  a  man 
(except  for  vice,  or  meanness)  should  be  quartered  without 
quarter. 

All  these  proud  thoughts  arose  within  me,  as  the  lovely  form 
of  Lorna  went  inside,  and  was  no  more  seen.  And  then  I 
felt  how  coarse  I  was ;  how  apt  to  think  strong  thoughts,  and 
so  on;  without  brains  to  bear  me  out:  even  as  a  hen's  egg 
laid,  without  enough  of  lime,  and  looking  only  a  poor  jelly. 

Nevertheless,  I  waited  on;  as  my  usual  manner  is.  For  to 
be  beaten,  while  running  awaj^,  is  ten  times  worse  than  to  face 
it  out,  and  take  it,  and  have  done  with  it.  So  at  least  I  have 
always  found,  because  of  reproach  of  conscience :  and  all  the 
things  those  clever  people  carried  on  inside,  at  large,  made 
me  long  for  our  Parson  Bowden,  that  he  might  know  how  to 
act. 

While  I  stored  up,  in  my  memory,  enough  to  keep  our  par- 
son going  through  six  pipes  on  a  Saturday  night  —  to  have  it 
as  right  as  could  be  next  day  —  a  lean  man  with  a  yellow  beard, 
too  thin  for  a  good  Catholic  (which  religion  always  fattens,) 
came  up  to  me,  working  sideways,  in  the  manner  of  a  female 
crab. 

"This  is  not  to  my  liking,"  I  said:  "if  aught  thou  hast, 
speak  plainly;  while  they  make  that  musical  roar  inside." 

Nothing  had  this  man  to  say;  but  with  many  sighs,  because 
I  was  not  of  the  proper  faith,  he  took  my  reprobate  hand  to 
save  me :  and  with  several  religious  tears,  looked  up  at  me, 
and  winked  with  one  eye.  Although  the  skin  of  my  palms 
was  thick,  I  felt  a  little  suggestion  there,  as  of  a  gentle  leaf 
in  spring,  fearing  to  seem  too  forward.  I  paid  the  man,  and 
he  went  happy;  for  the  standard  of  heretical  silver  is  purer 
than  that  of  the  Catholics. 

Then  I  lifted  up  my  little  billet;  and  in  that  dark  corner 
read  it,  with  a  strong  rainbow  of  colors  coming  from  the  angled 
light.  And  in  mine  eyes  there  was  enough  to  make  rainbow 
of  strongest  sun,  as  my  anger  clouded  off. 

Not  that  it  began  so  well;  but  that  in  my  heart  I  knew  (ere 
three  lines  were  through  me)  tliat  I  was  with  all  heart  loved 
—  and  beyond  that,  who  may  need?  The  darling  of  my  life 
went  on,  as  if  I  were  of  her  own  rank,  or  even  bettiM-  than  she 
was;  and  she  dotted  lier  "i's"  and  crossed  her  "t's,"  as  if  I 


228  LOBNA  DOONE. 

were  at  least  a  sclioolmaster.  All  of  it  was  done  in  pencil-, 
but  as  plain  as  plain  could  be.  In  my  coffin  it  shall  lie,  with 
my  ring,  and  something  else.  Therefore  will  I  not  expose  it 
to  every  man  who  buys  this  book,  and  haply  thinks  that  he  has 
bought  me  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  Enough  for  men  of 
gentle  birth  (who  never  are  inquisitive)  that  my  love  told  me, 
in  her  letter,  just  to  come  and  see  her. 

I  ran  away,  and  could  not  stop.  To  behold  even  her,  at  the 
moment,  would  have  dashed  my  fancy's  joy.  Yet  my  brain 
was  so  amiss,  that  I  must  do  something.  Therefore  to  the 
river  Thames,  with  all  speed,  I  hurried;  and  keeping  all  my 
best  clothes  on  (indued  for  sake  of  Lorna,)  into  the  quiet 
stream  I  leaped,  and  swam  as  far  as  London  Bridge,  and  ate 
noble  dinner  afterwards. 


CHAPTER   LXVII. 

LORISTA    STILL    IS    LORNA. 

Although  a  man  may  be  as  simple  as  the  flowers  of  the 
field ;  knowing  when,  but  scarcely  why,  he  closes  to  the  bitter 
wind;  and  feeling  why,  but  scarcely  when,  he  opens  to  the 
genial  sun;  yet  without  his  questing  much  into  the  capsule  of 
himself  —  to  do  which  is  a  misery  —  he  may  have  a  general 
notion  how  he  happens  to  be  getting  on. 

I  felt  myself  to  be  getting  on  better  than  at  any  time  since 
the  last  wheat-harvest,  as  I  took  the  lane  to  Kensington  upon 
the  Monday  evening.  For  although  no  time  was  given  in  my 
Lorna's  letter,  I  was  not  inclined  to  wait  any  more  than  decency 
required.  And  though  I  went  and  watched  the  house,  decency 
would  not  allow  me  to  knock  on  the  Sunday  evening,  especially 
when  I  found  at  the  corner  that  his  lordship  was  at  home. 

The  lanes,  and  fields,  between  Charing  Cross  and  the  village 
of  Kensington,  are,  or  were  at  that  time,  more  than  reasonably 
infested  with  footpads,  and  with  highwaymen.  However,  my 
stature  and  holly  club  kept  these  fellows  from  doing  more  than 
casting  sheep's  eyes  at  me.  For  it  was  still  broad  daylight, 
and  the  view  of  the  distant  villages,  Chelsea,  Battersea,  Tyburn, 
and  others,  as  well  as  a  few  large  houses,  among  the  hams,  and 
towards  the  river,  made  it  seem  less  lonely.  Therefore  I  sang 
a  song  in  the  broadest  Exmoor  dialect,  which  caused  no  little 
amazement  in  the  minds  of  all  who  met  me. 


LOBNA    STILL  IS  LOENA.  229 

When  I  came  to  Earl  Braiidir's  house,  my  natural  modesty 
forbade  me  to  appear  at  the  door  for  guests ;  therefore  I  went 
to  the  entrance  for  servants  and  retainers.  Here,  to  my  great 
surprise,  who  sliould  come  and  let  me  in  but  little  Gwenny 
Carfax,  whose  very  existence  had  almost  escaped  my  recollec- 
tion. Her  mistress,  no  doubt,  had  seen  me  coming,  and  sent 
her  to  save  trouble.  But  when  I  offered  to  kiss  Gwenny,  in 
my  joy  and  comfort  to  see  a  farmhouse  face  again,  she  looked 
ashamed,  and  turned  away,  and  would  hardly  speak  to  me. 

I  followed,  her  to  a  little  room,  furnished  very  daintily ;  and 
there  she  ordered  me  to  wait,  in  a  most  ungracious  manner. 
"Well,"  thought  I,  "if  the  mistress  and  the  maid  are  alike  in 
temper,  better  it  had  been  for  me  to  abide  at  Master  Ram- 
sack's."  But  almost  ere  my  thought  was  done,  I  heard  the 
light  quick  step  which  I  knew  as  well  as  "Watch,"  my  dog, 
knew  mine ;  and  my  breast  began  to  tremble,  like  the  trembling 
of  an  arch  ere  the  keystone  is  put  in. 

Almost  ere  I  hoped  —  for  fear  and  hope  were  so  entangled, 
that  they  hindered  one  another  —  the  velvet  hangings  of  the 
doorway  parted,  with  a  little  doubt,  and  then  a  good  face  put 
on  it.  Lorna,  in  her  perfect  beauty,  stood  before  the  crimson 
folds,  and  her  dress  was  all  pure  white,  and  her  cheeks  were 
rosy  pink,  and  her  lips  were  scarlet. 

Like  a  maiden,  with  skill  and  sense  checking  violent  impulse, 
she  stayed  there  for  one  moment  only,  just  to  be  admired :  and 
then  like  a  woman,  she  came  to  me,  seeing  how  alarmed  I  was. 
The  hand  she  offered  me  I  took,  and  raised  it  to  my  lips  with 
fear,  as  a  thing  too  good  for  me.  "  Is  that  all?  "  she  whispered ; 
and  then  her  eyes  gleamed  up  at  me :  and  in  another  instant 
she  was  weeping  on  my  breast. 

"Darling  Lorna,  Lady  Lorna,"  I  cried,  in  astonishment,  yet 
unable  but  to  keep  her  closer  to  me,  and  closer;  "  surely,  though 
I  love  you  so,  this  is  not  as  it  sliould  be." 

"  Yes  it  is,  John.  Yes,  it  is.  Nothing  else  should  ever  be. 
Oh,  why  liave  you  behaved  so?" 

"I  am  behaving,"  I  replied,  "to  the  very  best  of  my  ability. 
There  is  no  other  man  in  the  world  could  hold  you  so,  without 
kissing  you." 

"Then  why  don't  you  do  it,  John?"  asked  Lorna,  looking 
up  at  me,  with  a  flash  of  her  old  fun. 

Now  this  matter,  proverbially,  is  not  so  meet  for  discussion, 
as  it  is  for  repetition.  Enough  that  we  said  nothing  more 
than,  "Oh,  J(jlin,  Jiow  glad  I  am!"  and,  "Lorna,  Lorna, 
Lorna!  "  for  aljout  five  minutes.     Then  my  darling  drew  back 


230  LOBNA  BOONE. 

proudly;  with  blushing  cheeks,  and  tear-bright  eyes,  she  began 
to  cross-examine  me. 

"Master  John  Ridd,  you  shall  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  I  have  been  in  Chancery, 
sir;  and  can  detect  a  story.  iS'ow  why  have  you  never,  for 
more  than  a  twelvemonth,  taken  the  smallest  notice  of  your  old 
friend.  Mistress  Lorna  Doone?"  Although  she  spoke  in  this 
lightsome  manner,  as  if  it  made  no  difference,  I  saw  that  her 
quick  heart  was  moving,  and  the  flash  of  her  eyes  controlled. 

"Simply  for  this  cause,"  I  answered,  "that  my  old  friend, 
and  true  love,  took  not  the  smallest  heed  of  me.  Nor  knew  I 
where  to  find  her." 

"What!"  cried  Lorna;  and  nothing  more;  being  overcome 
with  wondering;  and  much  inclined  to  fall  away,  but  for  my 
assistance.  I  told  her,  over  and  over  again,  that  not  a  single 
syllable  of  any  message  from  her,  or  tidings  of  her  welfare, 
had  reached  me,  or  any  one  of  us,  since  the  letter  she  left 
behind;  except  by  soldiers'  gossip. 

"Oh,  you  poor  dear  John!  "  said  Lorna,  sighing  at  thought 
of  my  misery :  "  how  wonderfully  good  of  you,  thinking  of  me 
as  you  must  have  done,  not  to  marry  that  little  plain  thing  (or 
perhaps  I  should  say  that  lovely  creature,  for  I  have  never 
seen  her).  Mistress  Ruth  —  I  forget  her  name;  but  something 
like  a  towel." 

"Ruth  Huckaback  is  a  worthy  maid,"  I  answered  with  some 
dignity;  "and  she  alone  of  all  our  world,  except  indeed  poor 
Annie,  has  kept  her  confidence  in  you,  and  told  me  not  to  dread 
your  rank,  but  trust  your  heart,  Lady  Lorna." 

"  Then  Ruth  is  my  best  friend, "  she  answered,  "  and  is  worthy 
of  you,  John.  And  now  remember  one  thing,  dear;  if  God 
should  part  us,  as  may  be  by  nothing  short  of  death,  try  to 
marry  that  little  Ruth,  when  you  cease  to  remember  me.  And 
now  for  the  head-traitor.  I  have  often  suspected  it:  but  she 
looks  me  in  the  face,  and  wishes  —  fearful  things,  which  I  can- 
not repeat." 

With  these  words,  she  moved  an  implement  such  as  I  had 
not  seen  before,  and  which  made  a  ringing  noise  at  a  serious 
distance.  And  before  I  had  ceased  wondering  —  for  if  such 
things  go  on,  we  might  ring  the  church  bells,  while  sitting  in 
our  back-kitchen  —  little  Gwenny  Carfax  came,  with  a  grave 
and  sullen  face. 

"  Gwenny, "  began  my  Lorna,  in  a  tone  of  high  rank  and 
dignity,  "  go  and  fetch  the  letters,  which  I  gave  you  at  various 
times  for  dispatch  to  Mistress  Ridd." 


LORNA   STILL  IS  LORNA.  231 

"How  can  I  fetch  them,  when  they  are  gone?  It  be  no  use 
for  him  to  tell  no  lies " 

"Now,  Gwenny,  canyon  look  at  me?"  I  asked  very  sternly; 
for  the  matter  was  no  joke  to  me,  after  a  year's  unhappiness. 

"  I  don't  want  to  look  at  'ee.  What  should  I  look  at  a  young 
man  for,  although  he  did  offer  to  kiss  me?" 

I  saw  the  spite  and  impudence  of  this  last  remark ;  and  so 
did  Lorna,  although  she  could  not  quite  refrain  from  smiling. 

"Now,  Gwenny,  not  to  speak  of  that,"  said  Lorna  very 
demurely,  "  if  you  thought  it  honest  to  keep  the  letters,  was 
it  honest  to  keep  the  money?" 

At  this  the  Cornish  maiden  broke  into  a  rage  of  honesty : 
"A'  putt  the  money  by  for  'ee.  'Ee  shall  have  every  farden 
of  it."     And  so  she  flung  out  of  the  room. 

"And,  Gwenny,"  said  Lorna  very  softly,  following  under 
the  door-hangings ;  "  if  it  is  not  honest  to  keep  the  money,  it 
is  not  honest  to  keep  the  letters,  which  would  have  been  worth 
more  than  any  gold,  to  those  who  were  so  kind  to  you.  Your 
father  shall  know  the  whole,  Gwenny,  unless  you  tell  the  truth." 

"Now,  a'  will  tell  all  the  truth,"  this  strange  maiden 
answered,  talking  to  herself  at  least  as  much  as  to  her  mis- 
tress, while  she  went  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  And  then  I 
was  so  glad  at  having  my  own  Lorna  once  again,  cleared  of  all 
contempt  for  us,  and  true  to  me  through  all  of  it,  that  I  would 
have  forgiven  Gwenny  for  treason,  or  even  forgery. 

"I  trusted  her  so  much,"  said  Lorna,  in  her  old  ill-fortuned 
way ;  "  and  look  how  she  has  deceived  me !  That  is  why  I  love 
you,  John  (setting  other  things  aside),  because  you  never  told 
me  falsehood;  and  you  never  could,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  I  think  I  could  tell  any 
lie,  to  have  you,  darling,  all  my  own." 

"  Yes.  And  perhaps  it  might  be  right.  To  other  people 
besides  us  two.  But  you  could  not  do  it  to  me,  John.  You 
never  could  do  it  to  me,  you  know." 

Before  I  quite  perceived  my  way  to  the  bottom  of  this  dis- 
tinction —  although  beyond  doubt  a  valid  one  —  Gwenny  came 
back  with  a  leathern  bag,  and  tossed  it  upon  the  table.  Not 
a  word  did  she  vouchsafe  to  us;  but  stood  there,  looking 
injured. 

"  Go,  and  get  your  letters,  John,"  said  Lorna  very  gravely; 
"or  at  least  your  mother's  letters,  made  of  messages  to  you. 
As  for  Gwenny,  she  shall  go  before  Lord  Justice  Jeffreys."  _  I 
knew  that  Lorna  meant  it  not;  but  tliouglit  that  the  girl 
deserved  a  frightening;  as  indeed  slu;  did.     But  we  both  mis- 


232  LORNA  BOONE. 

took  the  courage  of  this  chikl  of  Cornwall.  She  stepped  upon 
a  little  round  thing,  in  the  nature  of  a  stool,  such  as  I  never 
had  seen  before,  and  thus  delivered  her  sentiments. 

"  And  you  may  take  me,  if  you  please,  before  the  great  Lord 
Jefferays.  I  have  done  no  more  than  duty,  though  I  did  it 
crookedly,  and  told  a  heap  of  lies,  for  your  sake.  And  pretty 
gratitude  I  gets." 

"Much  gratitude  you  have  shown,"  replied  Lorna,  "to 
Master  Ridd,  for  all  his  kindness,  and  his  goodness  to  you. 
Who  was  it  that  went  down,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  and  brought 
your  father  to  you,  when  you  had  lost  him  for  months  and 
months?     Who  was  it?     Answer  me,  Gvvenny!" 

"Girt  Jan  Ridd,"  said  the  handmaid,  very  sulkily. 

"What  made  you  treat  me  so,  little  Gwenny?"  I  asked,  for 
Lorna  would  not  ask,  lest  the  reply  should  vex  me. 

"  Because  'ee  be'est  below  her  so.  Her  shanna'  have  a  poor 
farmering  chap,  not  even  if  her  were  a  Carnishman.  All  her 
land,  and  all  her  birth  —  and  who  be  you,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Gwenny,  you  may  go,"  said  Lorna,  reddening  with  quiet 
anger;  "  and  remember  that  you  come  not  near  me  for  the  next 
three  days.  It  is  the  only  way  to  punish  her,"  she  continued 
to  me,  when  the  maid  was  gone,  in  a  storm  of  sobbing  and 
weeping.  "Now,  for  the  next  three  days,  she  will  scarcely 
touch  a  morsel  of  food,  and  scarcely  do  a  thing  but  cry.  Make 
up  your  mind  to  one  thing,  John ;  if  you  mean  to  take  me,  for 
better  for  worse,  you  will  have  to  take  Gwenny  with  me." 

"I  would  take  you  with  fifty  Gwennies,"  said  I,  "although 
every  one  of  them  hated  me ;  which  I  do  not  believe  this  little 
maid  does,  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart." 

"No  one  can  possibly  hate  you,  John,"  she  answered  very 
softly;  and  I  Avas  better  pleased  with  this,  than  if  she  had 
called  me  the  most  noble  and  glorious  man  in  the  kingdom. 

After  this,  we  spoke  of  ourselves,  and  the  way  people  would 
regard  us,  supposing  that  when  Lorna  came  to  be  her  own  free 
mistress  (as  she  must  do  in  the  course  of  time)  she  were  to 
throw  her  rank  aside,  and  refuse  her  title,  and  caring  not  a  fig 
for  folk  who  cared  less  than  a  fig-stalk  for  her,  should  shape 
her  mind  to  its  native  bent,  and  to  my  perfect  happiness.  It 
was  not  my  place  to  say  much,  lest  I  should  aj^pear  to  use  an 
improper  and  selfish  influence.  And  of  course  to  all  men  of 
common  sense,  and  to  every  body  of  middle  age  (who  must 
know  best  what  is  good  for  youth),  the  thoughts  which  my 
Lorna  entertained  would  be  enough  to  prove  her  madness. 

Not  that  we  could  not  keep  her  well,  comfortably,  and  with 


LORNA   STILL  IS  LOENA.  233 

nice  clothes,  and  plenty  of  flowers,  and  fruit,  and  landscape, 
and  the  knowledge  of  our  neighbors'  affairs,  and  their  kind 
interest  in  our  own.  Still  this  would  not  be  as  if  she  were 
the  owner  of  a  county,  and  a  haughty  title ;  and  able  to  lead 
the  first  men  of  the  age,  by  her  mind,  and  face,  and  money. 

Therefore  was  I  quite  resolved  not  to  have  a  word  to  say, 
while  this  young  queen  of  wealth  and  beauty,  and  of  nobleman's 
desire,  made  her  mind  up  how  to  act  for  her  purest  happiness. 
But  to  do  her  justice,  this  was  not  the  first  thing  she  was 
thinking  of :  the  test  of  her  judgment,  was  only  this,  "  How 
will  my  love  be  happiest?  " 

"Now,  John,"  she  cried;  for  she  was  so  quick  that  she 
always  had  my  thoughts  beforehand;  "why  will  you  be  back- 
ward, as  if  you  cared  not  for  me?  Do  you  dream,  that  I  am 
doubting?  My  mind  has  been  made  up,  good  John,  that  you 
must  be  my  husband,  for  —  well,  I  will  not  say  how  long,  lest 
you  should  laugh  at  my  folly.  But  I  believe  it  was  ever  since 
you  came,  with  your  stockings  off,  and  the  loaches.  Right 
early  for  me  to  make  up  my  mind;  but  you  know  that  you 
made  up  yours,  John ;  and,  of  course,  I  knew  it ;  and  that  had 
a  great  effect  on  me.  Now,  after  all  this  age  of  loving,  shall 
a  trifle  sever  us?" 

I  told  her  that  it  was  no  trifle,  but  a  most  important  thing, 
to  abandon  wealth  and  honor,  and  the  brilliance  of  high  life, 
and  be  despised  by  every  one  for  such  abundant  folly.  More- 
over that  I  should  appear  a  knave  for  taking  advantage  of 
her  youth,  and  boundless  generosity,  and  ruining  (as  men 
would  say)  a  noble  maid  by  my  selfishness.  And  I  told  her 
outright,  having  worked  myself  up  by  my  own  conversation, 
that  she  was  bound  to  consult  her  guardian,  and  that  without 
his  knowledge,  I  would  come  no  more  to  see  her.  Her  flash 
of  pride  at  these  last  words  made  her  look  like  an  empress ; 
and  I  was  al)out  to  explain  myself  better,  but  she  put  forth 
her  hand,  and  stopped  me. 

"  I  think  that  condition  should  rather  have  proceeded  from 
me.  You  are  mistaken.  Master  Ridd,  in  supposing  that  T  would 
think  of  receiving  you,  in  secret.  It  was  a  different  thing  in 
Glen  Doone,  where  all  except  yourself  were  thieves,  and  when 
I  was  but  a  simple  child,  and  oppressed  with  constant  fear. 
You  are  quite  right  in  threatening  to  visit  me  thus  no  more; 
but  I  think  you  might  have  waited  for  an  invitation,  sir." 

"And  you  are  quite  right.  Lady  Lorna,  in  pointing  out  my 
presuraj>tion.  It  is  a  fault  that  must  ever  be  found  in  any 
speech  of  mine  to  you." 


234  LOENA   DOONE. 

This  I  said  so  humbly,  and  not  with  any  bitterness  —  for  I 
knew  that  I  had  gone  too  far  —  and  made  her  so  polite  a  bow, 
that  she  forgave  me  in  a  moment,  and  we  begged  each  other's 
pardon. 

"  Now,  will  yon  allow  me  just  to  explain  my  own  view  of 
this  matter,  John?  "  said  she,  once  more  my  darling.  "  It  may 
be  a  very  foolish  view,  but  I  shall  never  change  it.  Please 
not  to  interrupt  me,  dear,  until  you  have  heard  me  to  the  end. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  quite  certain,  that  neither  you  nor  I 
can  be  happy  without  the  other.  Then  what  stands  between 
us?  Worldly  position,  and  nothing  else.  I  have  no  more 
education  than  you  have,  John  Ridd;  nay,  and  not  so  much. 
My  birth  and  ancestry  are  not  one  whit  more  pure  than  yours, 
although  they  may  be  better  known.  Your  descent  from 
ancient  freeholders,  for  five-and-twenty  generations  of  good, 
honest  men,  although  you  bear  no  coat  of  arms,  is  better  than 
the  lineage  of  nine  proud  English  noblemen  out  of  every  ten  I 
meet  with.  In  manners,  though  your  mighty  strength,  and 
hatred  of  any  meanness,  sometimes  break  out  in  violence  —  of 
which  I  must  try  to  cure  you,  dear  —  in  manners,  if  kindness, 
and  gentleness,  and  modesty  are  the  true  things  wanted,  you 
are  immeasurably  above  any  of  our  Court  gallants;  who, 
indeed,  have  very  little.  As  for  difference  of  religion,  we 
allow  for  one  another,  neither  having  been  brought  up  in  a 
bitterly  pious  manner." 

Here,  though  the  tears  were  in  my  eyes,  at  the  loving  things 
love  said  of  me,  I  could  not  help  a  little  laugh,  at  the  notion 
of  any  bitter  piety  being  found  among  the  Doones,  or  even  in 
mother,  for  that  matter.  Lorna  smiled,  in  her  slyest  manner, 
and  went  on  again : 

"  Now,  you  see,  I  have  proved  my  point ;  there  is  nothing 
between  us  but  worldly  position  —  if  you  can  defend  me  against 
the  Doones,  for  which,  I  trow,  I  may  trust  you.  And  worldly 
position  means  wealth,  and  title,  and  the  right  to  be  in  great 
houses,  and  the  pleasure  of  being  envied.  I  have  not  been  here 
for  a  year,  John,  without  learning  something.  Oh,  I  hate  it; 
how  I  hate  it !  Of  all  the  people  I  know,  there  are  but  two, 
besides  my  uncle,  who  do  not  either  covet  or  detest  me.  And 
who  are  those  two,  think  you?" 

"Gwenny,  for  one,"  I  answered. 

"Yes,  Gwenny,  for  one.  And  the  Queen,  for  the  other. 
The  one  is  too  far  below  me  (I  mean,  in  her  own  opinion),  and 
the  other  too  high  above.  As  for  the  women  who  dislike  me, 
without  having  even  heard  my  voice,  I  simply  have  nothing 


LORNA   STILL  IS  LOENA.  235 

to  do  with  them.  As  for  the  men  who  covet  me,  for  my  land 
and  money,  I  merely  compare  them  with  you,  John  Ridd;  and 
all  thought  of  them  is  over.  Oh,  John,  you  must  never  forsake 
me,  however  cross  I  am  to  you.  T  thought  you  would  have 
gone,  just  now ;  and  though  I  would  not  move  to  stop  you,  my 
heart  would  have  broken." 

"You  don't  catch  me  go  in  a  hurry,"  I  answered  very  sensi- 
bly, "  when  the  loveliest  maiden  in  the  world,  and  the  best, 
and  the  dearest  loves  me.  All  my  fear  of  you  is  gone,  darling 
Lorna,  all  my  fear " 

"Is  it  possible  you  could  fear  me,  John,  after  all  we  have 
been  through  together?  Now  you  promised  not  to  interrupt 
me;  is  this  fair  behavior?  Well,  let  me  see  where  I  left  oft'; 
—  oh,  that  my  heart  would  have  broken.  Upon  that  point  I 
will  say  no  more,  lest  you  should  grow  conceited,  John;  if 
any  thing  could  make  you  so.  But  I  do  assure  you  that  half 
London  —  however,  upon  that  point  also  I  Avill  check  my  power 
of  speech,  lest  you  think  me  conceited.  And  now  to  put  aside 
all  nonsense ;  thougli  I  have  talked  none  for  a  year,  John,  hav- 
ing been  so  unhappy;  and  now  it  is  such  a  relief  to  me " 

"Then  talk  it  for  an  hour,"  said  I;  "and  let  me  sit  and 
watch  you.  To  me  it  is  the  very  sweetest  of  all  sweetest  wis- 
dom." 

"Nay,  there  is  no  time,"  she  answered,  glancing  at  a  jewelled 
timepiece,  scarcely  larger  than  an  oyster,  which  she  drew  from 
near  her  waist-band;  and  then  she  pushed  it  away,  in  confu- 
sion, lest  its  wealth  should  startle  me.  "My  uncle  will  come 
home  in  less  than  half-an-hour,  dear:  and  you  are  not  the  one 
to  take  a  side-passage,  and  avoid  him.  I  shall  tell  him  that 
you  have  been  here:  and  that  I  mean  you  to  come  again." 

As  Lorna  said  this,  with  a  manner  as  confident  as  need  be, 
I  saw  that  she  had  learned  in  town  the  power  of  her  beauty, 
and  knew  that  she  could  do  with  most  men  aught  she  set  her 
mind  upon.  And  as  she  stood  there,  fluslied  with  pride  and 
faith  in  her  own  loveliness,  and  radiant  with  the  love  itself,  I 
felt  that  she  must  do  exactly  as  she  pleased  with  every  one. 
For  now,  in  turn,  and  elegance,  and  richness,  and  variety,  there 
was  nothing  to  compare  witli  her  face,  unless  it  were  her  ilgure. 
Tliereforc!  I  gave  in  and  said, — 

"  Darling,  do  just  what  you  please.  Only  make  no  rogue  of 
me." 

For  tliat  she  gave  me  the  simplest,  kindest,  and  sweetest  of 
all  kisses;  and  I  went  down  the  great  stairs  grandly,  thinking 
of  nothing  else  but  that. 


236  LOBNA   BOONE. 

CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

JOHN    IS    JOHN    NO    LONGER. 

It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  tell  the  state  of  mind  in  which  I 
lived  for  a  long  time  after  this.  I  put  away  from  me  all  tor- 
ment, and  the  thought  of  future  cares,  and  the  sight  of  diffi- 
culty;  and  to  myself  appeared,  which  means  that  I  became,  the 
luckiest  of  lucky  fellows,  since  the  world  itself  began.  I 
thought  not  of  the  harvest  even,  nor  of  the  men  who  would 
get  their  wages  without  having  earned  them,  nor  of  my  mother's 
anxiety,  and  worry  about  John  Fry's  great  fatness  (which  was 
growing  upon  him),  and  how  slie  would  cry  lifty  times  in  a 
day,  "  Ah,  if  our  John  would  only  come  home,  how  different 
every  thing  would  look!  " 

Although  there  were  no  soldiers  now  quartered  at  Plover's 
Barrows,  all  being  busied  in  harassing  the  country,  and  hang- 
ing the  people,  where  the  rebellion  had  thriven  most,  my 
mother,  having  received  from  me  a  message  containing  my 
place  of  abode,  contrived  to  send  me,  by  tlie  pack-horses,  as 
fine  a  maund  as  need  be  of  provisions,  and  money,  and  other 
comfort.  Therein  I  found  addressed  to  Colonel  Jeremiah 
Stickles,  in  Lizzie's  best  handwriting,  half  a  side  of  the  dried 
deer's  flesh,  in  which  he  rejoiced  so  greatly.  Also,  for  Lorna, 
a  fine  green  goose,  with  a  little  salt  towards  the  tail,  and  new 
laid  eggs  inside  it,  as  well  as  a  bottle  of  brandied  cherries,  and 
seven,  or  it  may  have  been  eight  pounds  of  fresh  home-made 
butter.  Moreover  to  myself  there  was  a  letter  full  of  good 
advice,  excellently  well  expressed,  and  would  have  been  of  the 
greatest  value,  if  I  had  cared  to  read  it.  But  I  read  all  about 
the  farm  affairs,  and  the  man  who  had  offered  himself  to  our 
Betty  for  the  five  pounds  in  her  stocking ;  as  well  as  the  antics 
of  Sally  Snowe,  and  how  she  had  almost  thrown  herself  at 
Parson  Bowden's  head  (old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather), 
because  on  the  Sunday  after  the  hanging  of  a  Countisbury  man, 
he  had  preached  a  beautiful  sermon  about  Christian  love ;  which 
Lizzie,  with  her  sharp  eyes,  found  to  be  the  work  of  good 
Bishop  Ken.  Also  I  read  that  the  Doones  were  quiet;  the 
parishes  round  about  having  united  to  feed  them  well  through 
the  harvest  time,  so  that  after  the  day's  hard  work,  the  farmers 
might  go  to  bed  at  night.  And  this  plan  had  been  found  to 
'answer  well,  and  to  save  much  trouble  on  both  sides,  so  that 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  iVO  LONGER.  237 

every  body  "wondered  it  had  not  been  done  before.  But  Lizzie 
thought  that  the  Doones  could  hardly  be  expected  much  longer 
to  put  up  Avith  it,  and  probably  would  not  have  done  so  now, 
but  for  a  little  adversity;  to  wit,  that  the  famous  Colonel  Kirke 
had,  in  the  most  outrageous  manner,  hanged  no  less  than  six 
of  them,  who  were  captured  among  the  rebels;  for  he  said  that 
men  of  their  rank  and  breeding,  and  above  all  of  their  religion, 
should  have  known  better  than  to  join  plough-boys,  and  carters, 
and  pickaxe-men,  against  our  Lord  the  King,  and  his  holy  Holi- 
ness the  Pope.  This  hanging  of  so  many  Doones  caused  some 
indignation,  among  people  who  were  used  to  them;  and  it 
seemed  for  a  while  to  check  the  rest  from  any  spirit  of  enter- 
prise. 

Moreover,  I  found  from  this  same  letter  (which  was  pinned 
upon  the  knuckle  of  a  leg  of  mutton,  for  fear  of  being  lost  in 
straw)  that  good  Tom  Faggus  was  at  home  again,  and  nearly 
cured  of  his  dreadful  wound ;  but  intended  to  go  to  war  no 
more,  only  to  mind  his  family.  And  it  grieved  him,  more 
than  any  thing  he  ever  could  have  imagined,  that  his  duty  to 
his  family,  and  the  strong  power  of  his  conscience,  so  totally 
forbade  him  to  come  up  and  see  after  me.  For  now  his  design 
was  to  lead  a  new  life,  and  be  in  charity  with  all  men.  Many 
better  men  than  he  had  been  hanged,  he  saw  no  cause  to  doubt ; 
but  by  the  grace  of  God,  he  hoped  himself  to  cheat  the  gallows. 

There  was  no  further  news  of  moment  in  this  very  clever 
letter,  except  that  the  price  of  horses'  shoes  was  gone  up  again, 
though  already  twopence-farthing  each;  and  that  Betty  had 
broken  her  lover's  head,  with  the  stocking  full  of  money;  and 
then  in  the  corner  it  was  written,  that  the  distinguished  man 
of  war,  and  worshipful  scholar  Master  Bloxham,  was  now  ])ro- 
moted  to  take  the  tolls,  and  catch  all  the  rebels  around  our  part. 

Lorna  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  goose,  and  the  butter, 
and  the  brandied  cherries;  and  the  Earl  Brandir  himself 
declared  that  he  never  tasted  better  than  those  last,  and  would 
beg  the  young  man  from  tlie  country  to  procure  him  instruc- 
tions for  making  them.  This  nobleman,  being  as  deaf  as  a 
post,  and  of  a  very  solid  mind,  could  never  V)e  brought  to  under- 
stand the  nature  of  my  thoughts  towards  Tjorna.  I  le  looked 
u])on  me  as  an  excellent  youth,  who  had  rescued  tlie  maiden 
from  the  Doones,  whom  he  cordially  detested;  and  learning 
tli.'it  I  had  tlirown  two  of  tliem  out  of  window  (as  the  story  was 
tohl  liim),  he  patted  me  on  the  back,  and  declari'd  tliat  his  doors 
would  ever  be  open  to  me,  and  that  I  could  not  come  too  often. 

I  thought  this  very  kind  of  his  lordship,  especially  as  it 


238  LOENA  BOONE. 

enabled  me  to  see  my  darling  Lorna,  not  indeed  as  often  as  I 
wished,  but  at  any  rate  very  frequently,  and  as  many  times  as 
modesty  (ever  my  leading  principle)  would  in  common  con- 
science approve  of.  And  I  made  up  my  mind,  that  if  ever  I 
could  help  Earl  Brandir,  it  would  be  —  as  we  say,  when  with 
brandy  and  water  —  the  "proudest  moment  of  my  life,"  when 
I  could  fulfil  the  pledge. 

And  I  soon  was  able  to  help  Lord  Brandir,  as  I  think,  in  two 
different  ways ;  first  of  all,  as  regarded  his  mind,  and  then  as 
concerned  his  body :  and  the  latter  perhaps  was  the  greatest 
service,  at  his  time  of  life.  But  not  to  be  too  nice  about  that; 
let  me  tell  how  these  things  were. 

Lorna  said  to  me  one  day,  being  in  a  state  of  excitement  — 
whereto  she  was  over  prone,  when  reft  of  my  slowness  to  steady 
her, — 

"  I  will  tell  him,  John ;  I  must  tell  him,  John.  It  is  mean 
of  me  to  conceal  it." 

I  thought  that  she  meant  all  about  our  love,  which  we  had 
endeavored  thrice  to  drill  into  his  fine  old  ears ;  but  could  not 
make  him  comprehend,  without  the  risk  of  bringing  the  house 
down :  and  so  I  said,  " By  all  means,  darling:  have  another  try 
at  it." 

Lorna,  however,  looked  at  me  —  for  her  eyes  told  more  than 
tongue  —  as  much  as  to  say,  "Well,  you  are  a  stupid!  We 
agreed  to  let  that  subject  rest."  And  then  she  saw  that  I  was 
vexed  at  my  own  Avant  of  quickness ;  and  so  she  spoke  very 
kindly, — 

"I  meant  about  his  poor  son,  dearest;  the  son  of  his  old  age 
almost ;  whose  loss  threw  him  into  that  dreadful  cold  —  for  he 
went,  without  hat,  to  look  for  him  —  which  ended  in  his  losing 
the  use  of  his  dear  old  ears.  I  believe  if  we  could  only  get 
him  to  Plover's  Barrows  for  a  month,  he  would  be  able  to  hear 
again.  And  look  at  his  age!  he  is  not  much  over  seventy, 
John,  you  know ;  and  I  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  hear  me 
long  after  you  are  seventy,  John." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "God  settles  that.  Or  at  any  rate.  He 
leaves  us  time  to  think  about  those  questions,  when  we  are 
over  fifty.  Now  let  me  knov/  what  you  wan  I;,  Lorna.  The 
idea  of  my  being  seventy!     But  you  would  still  be  beautiful." 

"To  the  one  who  loves  me,"  she  answered,  trying  to  make 
wrinkles  in  her  pure  bright  forehead :  "  but  if  you  will  have 
common  sense,  as  you  always  will,  John,  whether  I  wish  it  or 
otherwise,  I  want  to  know  whether  I  am  bound,  in  honor,  and 
in  conscience,  to  tell  my  dear  and  good  old  uncle  what  I  know 
about  his  son." 


jonis^  IS  JOHN  yo  longer,  239 

"First  let  me  understand  quite  clearly,"  said  I,  never  being 
in  a  hurry,  except  when  passion  moves  me,  "  what  his  lordship 
thinks  at  present;  and  how  far  his  mind  is  urged  with  sorrow 
and  anxiety."  This  was  not  the  first  time  we  had  spoken  of 
the  matter. 

"Why,  you  know,  John,  well  enough,"  she  answered,  won- 
dering at  my  coolness,  "  that  my  poor  uncle  still  believes  that 
his  one  beloved  son  will  come  to  light  and  life  again.  He  has 
made  all  arrangements  accordingly :  all  his  property  is  settled 
on  that  supposition.  He  knows  that  young  Alan  always  was 
what  he  calls  a  'feckless  ne'er-do-weel; '  but  he  loves  him  all 
the  more  for  that.  He  cannot  believe  that  he  will  die,  without 
his  son  coming  back  to  him;  and  he  always  has  a  bedroom 
ready,  and  a  bottle  of  Alan's  favorite  wine  cool  from  out  the 
cellar;  he  has  made  me  work  him  a  pair  of  slippers,  from  the 
size  of  a  mouldy  boot;  and  if  he  hears  of  a  new  tobacco  —  much 
as  he  hates  the  smell  of  it  —  he  will  go  to  the  other  end  of 
London,  to  get  some  for  Alan.  Now  you  know  how  deaf  he  is; 
but  if  any  one  say  'Alan,'  even  in  the  place  outside  the  door, 
he  will  make  his  courteous  bow  to  the  very  highest  visitor, 
and  be  out  here  in  a  moment,  and  search  the  entire  passage, 
and  yet  let  no  one  know  it." 

"It  is  a  piteous  thing,"  I  said;  for  Lorna's  eyes  were  full  of 
tears. 

"  And  he  means  me  to  marry  him.  It  is  the  pet  scheme  of 
his  life.  I  am  to  grow  more  beautiful,  and  more  highly  taught, 
and  graceful ;  until  it  pleases  Alan  to  come  back,  and  demand 
me.  Can  you  understand  this  matter,  John?  Or  do  you  think 
my  uncle  mad?" 

"  Lorna,  I  should  be  mad  myself,  to  call  any  man  mad,  for 
hoping." 

"Then  will  you  tell  me  wliat  to  do?  It  makes  me  very 
sorrowful.  For  I  know  that  Alan  Brandir  lies  below  the  sod 
in  Doone-valley." 

"And  if  you  tell  his  father,"  I  answered  softly,  but  clearly, 
"  in  a  few  weeks  he  will  lie  below  the  sod  in  London ;  at  least 
if  there  is  any." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  John,"  she  replied:  "to  lose  hope 
must  be  a  dreadful  tiling,  when  one  is  turned  of  seventy. 
Tlierefore  I  will  never  tell  him." 

The  other  way  in  which  I  managed  to  help  the  good  Earl 
Brandir  was  of  less  true  moment  to  liim;  but  as  he  could  not 
know  of  the  first,  tliis  was  tlie  one  whicli  moved  him.  And  it 
haj)poned  pretty  much  as  follows  —  though  I  hardly  like  to 


240  LOENA  DOONE. 

tell,  because  it  advanced  me  to  such  a  height  as  I  myself  was 
giddy  at;  and  which  all  my  friends  resented  greatly  (save 
those  of  my  own  family),  and  even  now  are  sometimes  bitter, 
in  spite  of  all  my  humility.  Now  this  is  a  matter  of  history, 
because  the  King  was  concerned  in  it;  and  being  so  strongly 
misunderstood,  especially  in  my  own  neighborhood,  I  will  over- 
come (so  far  as  I  can)  my  diffidence  in  telling  it. 

The  good  Earl  Brandir  was  a  man  of  the  noblest  charity. 
True  charity  begins  at  home,  and  so  did  his ;  and  was  afraid  of 
losing  the  way,  if  it  went  abroad.  So  this  good  nobleman  kept 
his  money  in  a  handsome  pewter  box,  with  his  coat  of  arms 
upon  it,  and  a  double  lid,  and  locks.  Moreover,  there  was  a 
heavy  chain,  fixed  to  a  staple  in  the  wall,  so  that  none  might 
carry  off  the  pewter  with  the  gold  inside  of  it.  Lorna  told  me 
the  box  was  full,  for  she  had  seen  him  go  to  it,  and  she  often 
thought  that  it  would  be  nice  for  us  to  begin  the  world  with. 
I  told  her  that  she  must  not  allow  her  mind  to  dwell  upon 
things  of  this  sort ;  being  wholly  against  the  last  command- 
ment set  up  in  our  church  at  Oare. 

Now  one  evening  towards  September,  when  the  days  were 
drawing  in,  looking  back  at  the  house,  to  see  whether  Lorna 
were  looking  after  me,  I  espied  (by  a  little  glimpse,  as  it  were) 
a  pair  of  villainous  fellows  (about  whom  there  could  be  no 
mistake)  watching  from  the  thicket-corner,  some  hundred  yards 
or  so  behind  the  good  Earl's  dwelling.  "  There  is  mischief 
a-foot,"  thought  I  to  myself,  being  thoroughly  conversant  with 
theft,  from  my  knowledge  of  the  Doones ;  "  how  will  be  the 
moon  to-night,  and  when  may  we  expect  the  watch?" 

I  found  that  neither  moon,  nor  watch,  could  be  looked  for 
until  the  morning;  the  moon,  of  course,  before  the  watch,  and 
more  likely  to  be  punctual.  Therefore  I  resolved  to  wait,  and 
see  what  those  two  villains  did,  and  save  (if  it  were  possible) 
the  Earl  of  Brandir's  pewter  box.  But,  inasmuch  as  those 
bad  men  were  almost  sure  to  have  seen  me  leaving  the  house, 
and  looking  back,  and  striking  out  on  the  London  road,  I 
marched  along  at  a  merry  pace,  until  they  could  not  discern  me ; 
and  then  I  fetched  a  compass  round,  and  refreshed  myself  at  a 
certain  inn,  entitled  "The  Cross-bones,  and  Buttons." 

Here  I  remained  until  it  was  very  nearly  as  dark  as  pitch ; 
and  the  house  being  full  of  foot-pads  and  cut-throats,  I  thought 
it  right  to  leave  them.  One  or  two  cajne  after  me,  in  the  hope 
of  designing  a  stratagem;  but  I  dropped  them  in  the  darkness; 
and  knowing  all  the  neighborhood  well,  I  took  up  my  position, 
two  hours  before  midnight,  among  the  shrubs  at  the  eastern 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  NO  LONGER.  241 

end  of  Lord  Brandir's  mansion.  Hence,  altliough  I  might  not 
see,  I  could  scarcely  fail  to  hear,  if  any  unlawful  entrance, 
either  at  back  or  front,  were  made. 

From  my  own  observation,  I  thought  it  likely  that  the  attack 
would  be  in  the  rear;  and  so  indeed  it  came  to  pass.  For  when 
all  the  lights  were  quenched,  and  all  the  house  was  quiet,  I 
heard  a  low  and  wily  whistle  from  a  clump  of  trees  close  by  : 
and  then  three  figures  passed  between  me  and  a  whitewashed 
wall,  and  came  to  a  window  which  opened  into  a  part  of  the 
servants'  basement.  This  window  was  carefully  raised  by 
some  one  inside  the  house :  and  after  a  little  whispering,  and 
something  which  sounded  like  a  kiss,  all  the  three  men  entered. 

"Oh,  you  villains!"  I  said  to  myself;  "this  is  worse  than 
any  Doone  job;  because  there  is  treachery  in  it."  But  without 
waiting  to  consider  the  subject  from  a  moral  point  of  view,  I 
crept  along  the  Avail,  and  entered  very  quietly  after  them; 
being  rather  uneasy  about  my  life,  because  I  bore  no  fire- 
arms, and  had  nothing  more  than  my  holly  staff,  for  even  a 
violent  combat. 

To  me  this  was  matter  of  deep  regret,  as  I  followed  these 
vile  men  inward.  Nevertheless  I  was  resolved  that  my  Lorna 
should  not  be  robbed  again.  Through  us  (or  at  least  through 
our  Annie)  she  had  lost  that  brilliant  necklace;  which  then 
was  her  only  birthright:  therefore  it  behoved  me  doubly  to 
preserve  the  pewter  box ;  which  must  belong  to  her  in  the  end, 
unless  the  thieves  got  hold  of  it. 

I  went  along  very  delicately  (as  a  man  who  has  learned  to 
wrestle  can  do,  although  he  may  weigh  twenty  stone),  follow- 
ing carefully  the  light,  brought  by  the  traitorous  maid,  and 
shaking  in  her  loose  dishonest  liand.  I  saw  her  lead  the  men 
into  a  little  place  called  a  pantry ;  and  there  she  gave  them 
cordials,  and  I  could  hear  them  boasting. 

Not  to  be  too  long  over  it  —  which  they  were  much  inclined 
to  be  —  I  followed  them  from  this  drinking-bout,  by  the  aid 
of  the  light  they  bore,  as  far  as  Earl  Brandir's  bedroom,  which 
I  knew,  because  Lorna  had  shown  it  to  me,  that  I  miglit  admire 
the  tapestry.  But  I  had  said  tliat  no  horse  could  ever  be  sliod 
as  the  horses  were  shod  therein,  unless  he  had  the  foot  of  a 
frog,  as  well  as  a  frog  to  his  foot.  And  Lorna  liad  lieen  vexed 
at  this  (as  taste  and  liigh  art  always  are,  at  any  small  accu- 
rate knowledge),  and  so  she  had  brouglit  me  out  again,  before 
I  liad  time  to  admire  things. 

Now,  keeping  well  away  in  tlio  dark,  yet  nearer  tlian  was 
necessary  to  my  own  dear  Lorna's  room,  I  saw  these  IVlluws 

VOL.  II. —  IG 


242  LORN  A   DOONE. 

try  the  door  of  the  good  Earl  Brandir,  knowing  from  the  maid, 
of  course,  that  his  lordship  could  hear  nothing,  except  the 
name  of  Alan.  They  tried  the  lock,  and  pushed  at  it,  and  even 
set  their  knees  upriglit;  but  a  Scottish  nobleman  may  be 
trusted  to  secure  his  door  at  niglit.  So  they  were  forced  to 
break  it  open;  and  at  this  the  guilty  maid,  or  woman,  ran 
away.  These  three  rogues  —  for  rogues  they  were,  and  no 
charity  may  deny  it  —  burst  into  Earl  Brandir's  room,  with  a 
light,  and  a  crowbar,  and  lire-arms.  I  tliought  to  myself  that 
this  was  hard  upon  an  honest  nobleman:  and  if  further  mis- 
chief could  be  saved,  I  would  try  to  save  it. 

When  I  came  to  the  door  of  the  room,  being  myself  in  shadow, 
I  beheld  two  bad  men  trying  vainly  to  break  open  the  pewter 
box,  and  the  third  with  a  pistol  muzzle  laid  to  the  night-cap  of 
his  lordship.  With  foul  face,  and  yet  fouler  words,  this  man 
was  demanding  the  key  of  the  box,  which  the  other  men  could 
by  no  means  open,  neither  drag  it  from  the  chain.  "  I  tell 
you,"  said  this  aged  Earl,  beginning  to  understand  at  last  what 
these  rogues  were  up  for;  "I  will  give  no  key  to  you.  It  all 
belongs  to  my  boy,  Alan.     No  one  else  shall  have  a  farthing." 

"  Tlien  you  may  count  your  moments,  lord.  The  key  is  in 
your  old  cramped  hand.     One,  two;  and  at  three,  I  shoot  you." 

I  saw  that  the  old  man  was  abroad;  not  with  fear,  but  with 
great  wonder,  and  the  regret  of  deafness.  And  I  saw  that 
rather  would  he  be  shot,  than  let  these  men  go  rob  Ms  son, 
buried  now,  or  laid  to  bleach  in  the  tangles  of  the  wood,  three 
or  it  might  be  four  years  agone,  but  still  alive  to  his  father. 
Hereupon  my  heart  was  moved;  and  I  resolved  to  interfere. 
The  thief  with  the  pistol  began  to  count,  as  I  crossed  the  floor 
very  quietly,  while  the  old  Earl  fearfully  gazed  at  the  muzzle, 
but  clenched  still  tighter  his  wrinkled  hand.  The  villain,  with 
hair  all  over  his  eyes,  and  the  great  horse-pistol  levelled,  cried, 
"three,"  and  pulled  the  trigger;  but  luckily,  at  that  very 
moment,  I  struck  up  the  barrel  with  my  staff,  so  that  the  shot 
pierced  the  tester,  and  then  with  a  spin  and  a  thwack,  I  brought 
the  good  holly  down  upon  the  rascal's  head,  in  a  manner  which 
stretched  him  upon  the  floor. 

Meanwhile  the  other  two  robbers  had  taken  the  alarm,  and 
rushed  at  me,  one  with  a  pistol,  and  one  with  a  hanger;  which 
forced  me  to  be  very  lively.  Fearing  the  pistol  most,  I  flung 
the  heavy  velvet  curtain  of  the  bed  across,  that  he  might  not 
see  where  to  aim  at  me,  and  then  stooping  very  quickly,  I 
caught  up  the  senseless  robber,  and  set  him  up  for  a  shield  and 
target;  whereupon  he  was  shot  immediately,  without  having 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  NO  LONGER.  '2^'6 

the  pain  of  knowing  it;  and  a  liappy  thing  it  was  for  him. 
Now  the  other  two  were  at  my  mercy,  being  men  below  the 
average  strength ;  and  no  hanger,  except  in  most  skilful  hands, 
as  well  as  firm  and  strong  ones,  has  any  chance  to  a  powerful 
man  armed  with  a  stout  cudgel,  and  thoroughly  practised  in 
single-stick. 

So  I  took  these  two  rogues,  and  bound  them  together;  and 
leaving  them  under  charge  of  the  butler  (a  worthy  and  shrewd 
Scotchman),  I  myself  went  in  search  of  the  constables,  whom, 
after  some  few  hours,  I  found;  neither  were  they  so  drunk 
but  what  they  could  take  roped  men  to  prison.  In  the  morn- 
ing, these  two  men  were  brought  before  the  Justices  of  the 
Peace:  and  now  my  wonderful  luck  appeared;  for  the  merit 
of  having  defeated,  and  caught  them,  would  never  have  raised 
me  one  step  in  the  State,  or  in  public  consideration,  if  they 
had  only  been  common  robbers,  or  even  notorious  murderers. 
But  when  these  felloAvs  were  recognized,  by  some  one  in  the 
court,  as  Protestant  witnesses  out  of  employment,  companions 
and  understrappers  to  Gates,  and  Bedloe,  and  Carstairs,  and 
hand-in-glove  with  Dangerfield,  Turberville,  and  Dugdale  — 
in  a  word,  the  very  men  against  whom  His  Majesty  the  King 
bore  the  bitterest  rancor,  but  whom  he  had  hitherto  failed  to 
catch  —  when  this  was  laid  before  the  public  (with  emphasis, 
and  admiration),  at  least  a  dozen  men  came  up,  whom  I  had 
never  seen  before,  and  prayed  me  to  accept  their  congratula- 
tions, and  to  be  sure  to  remember  them;  for  all  were  of 
neglected  merit,  and  required  no  more  than  a  piece  of  luck. 

I  answered  them  very  modestly,  and  each  according  to  his 
worth,  as  stated  by  himself,  who  of  course  could  judge  the  best. 
The  magistrate  made  me  many  compliments,  ten  times  more 
than  I  deserved,  and  took  good  care  to  have  them  copied,  that 
His  jNIajesty  might  see  them.  And  ere  the  case  was  thoroughly 
heard,  and  those  poor  fellows  were  committed,  more  tlian  a 
score  of  generous  men  had  offered  to  lend  me  a  hundred  pounds, 
wlierewith  to  buy  a  new  Court  suit,  when  called  before  His 
Majesty. 

Now  this  may  seem  very  strange  to  us,  who  live  in  a  better 
and  purer  age  —  or  say  at  least  that  we  do  so  —  and  yet  who 
are  we  to  condemn  our  fatliers,  for  teaching  us  better  manners, 
and  at  their  own  expense?  With  tliese  points  any  virtuous 
man  is  bound  to  deal  quite  tenderly,  making  allowance  for 
corruption,  and  not  being  too  sure  of  himself.  And  to  tell  the 
truth,  altbougli  I  had  seen  so  little  of  the  world  as  yet,  that 
which  astonished  me,  in  the  matter,  was  not  so  mucli  that  they 


244  LORNA   DOONE. 

paid  me  court,  as  that  they  found  out  so  soon  the  expediency 
of  doing  it. 

In  the  course  of  that  same  afternoon,  I  was  sent  for  by  His 
Majesty.  He  had  summoned  first  the  good  Earl  Brandir,  and 
received  the  tale  from  him,  not  without  exaggeration,  although 
my  lord  was  a  Scotchman.  But  the  chief  thing  His  Majesty 
cared  to  know  was  that,  beyond  all  possible  doubt,  these  were 
the  very  precious  fellows  from  perjury  turned  to  robbery. 

Being  fully  assured  at  last  of  this,  His  Majesty  had  rubbed 
his  hands,  and  ordered  the  boots  of  a  stricter  pattern,  which 
he  himself  had  invented,  to  be  brought  at  once,  that  he  might 
have  them  in  the  best  possible  order.  And  he  oiled  them  him- 
self, and  expressed  his  fear  that  there  was  no  man  in  London 
quite  competent  to  wcJrk  them.  Nevertheless  he  would  try 
one  or  two,  rather  than  wait  for  his  pleasure,  till  the  torturer 
came  from  Edinburgh. 

The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  send  for  me;  and  in  great 
alarm  and  flurry,  I  put  on  my  best  clothes,  and  hired  a  fashion- 
able hair-dresser,  and  drank  half-a-gallon  of  ale,  because  both 
my  hands  were  shaking.  Then  forth  I  set,  with  my  holly  staff, 
wishing  myself  well  out  of  it.  I  was  shown  at  once,  and  before 
I  desired  it,  into  His  Majesty's  presence,  and  there  I  stood 
most  humbly,  and  made  the  best  bow  I  could  think  of. 

As  I  could  not  advance  any  further  —  for  I  saw  that  the 
Queen  was  present,  which  frightened  me  tenfold  —  His  Maj- 
esty, in  the  most  gracious  manner,  came  down  the  room  to 
encourage  me.  And  as  I  remained  with  my  head  bent  down, 
he  told  me  to  stand  up,  and  look  at  him. 

"I  have  seen  thee  before,  young  man,"  he  said;  "thy  form 
is  not  one  to  be  forgotten.  Where  was  it?  Thou  art  most 
likely  to  know." 

"  May  it  please  Your  Most  Gracious  Majesty  the  King, "  I 
answered,  finding  my  voice  in  a  manner  which  surprised  my- 
self; "it  was  in  the  Koyal  Chapel." 

Now  I  meant  no  harm  whatever  by  this,  I  ought  to  have 
said  the  "Ante-Chapel,"  but  I  could  not  remember  the  word, 
and  feared  to  keep  the  King  looking  at  me. 

"I  am  well-pleased,"  said  His  Majesty,  with  a  smile  which 
almost  made  his  dark  and  stubborn  face  look  pleasant,  "  to  find 
that  our  greatest  subject,  greatest  I  mean  in  the  bodily  form, 
is  a  good  Catholic.  Thou  needest  not  say  otherwise.  The 
time  shaJl  be,  and  that  right  soon,  when  men  shall  be  proud  of 
the  one  true  faith."  Here  he  stopped,  having  gone  rather  far; 
but  the  gleam  of  his  heavy  eyes  was  such,  that  I  durst  not 
contradict. 


''^if. 


•5-. 


// 


m 


1..*^ 


A 'J 


"  HK     GAVK     MK     a     I.ITTI  K     TAf     VhRV     NICELY     UPON     MV     SHOULDER. 

Vol.     II.    p.    24S. 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  NO  LONGER.  245 

"Tliis  is  that  great  Joliann  Reed,"  said  Her  Majesty,  com- 
ing forward  because  the  King  was  in  meditation ;  "  for  whom 
I  liave  so  much  heard,  from  the  dear,  dear  Lorna.  Ah,  she  is 
not  of  this  black  countree,  she  of  the  breet  Italie." 

I  have  tried  to  write  it,  as  she  said  it :  but  it  wants  a  better 
scholar  to  express  her  mode  of  speech. 

"Kow,  John  Ridd,"  said  the  King,  recovering  from  his 
thoughts  about  the  true  Church,  and  thinking  that  his  Avife 
was  not  to  take  the  lead  upon  me;  "thou  hast  done  great  ser- 
vice to  the  realm,  and  to  religion.  It  was  good  to  save  Earl 
Brandir,  a  loyal  and  Catholic  nobleman;  but  it  was  great  ser- 
vice to  catch  two  of  the  vilest  bloodliounds  ever  laid  on  by 
heretics.  And  to  make  them  shoot  another :  it  was  rare;  it 
was  rare,  my  lad.  Now  ask  us  anything  in  reason ;  thou  canst 
carry  any  honors,  on  thy  club,  like  Hercules.  What  is  thy 
chief  ambition,  lad?  " 

"  Well, "  said  I,  after  thinking  a  little,  and  meaning  to  make 
the  most  of  it,  for  so  the  Queen's  eyes  conveyed  to  me ;  "  my 
mother  always  used  to  think  that  having  been  schooled  at 
Tiverton,  with  thirty  marks  a  year  to  pay,  I  was  worthy  of  a 
coat  of  arms.     And  that  is  what  she  longs  for." 

"A  good  lad!  A  very  good  lad;"  said  the  King,  and  he 
looked  at  the  Queen,  as  if  almost  in  joke;  "but  what  is  thy 
condition  in  life?  " 

"  I  am  a  freeholder, "  I  answered  in  my  confusion,  "  ever 
since  the  time  of  King  Alfred.  A  Ridd  was  with  him  in  the 
isle  of  Athelney,  and  we  hold  our  farm  by  gift  from  him ;  or 
at  least  people  say  so.  We  have  had  three  very  good  harvests 
running,  and  might  support  a  coat  of  arms;  but  for  myself  I 
want  it  not." 

"Thou  shalt  have  a  coat,  my  lad,"  said  the  King,  smiling 
at  his  own  humor;  "but  it  must  be  a  large  one  to  fit  thee. 
And  more  tlian  that  shalt  tho\i  have,  John  Ridd,  being  of  such 
loyal  breed,  and  having  done  such  service." 

And  while  I  wondered  what  he  meant,  he  called  to  some  of 
the  people  in  waiting  at  tlie  farther  end  of  the  room,  and  they 
brought  him  a  little  sword,  such  as  Annie  would  skewer  a 
turkey  witli.  Then  he  signified  to  me  to  kneel,  which  I  did 
(after  dusting  the  board,  for  the  sake  of  my  best  breeclies),  and 
then  he  gave  me  a  little  tap  very  nicely  upon  my  sliould(>r, 
before  I  knew  what  he  was  up  to;  and  said,  "Arise,  Sir  John 
Rid.l !  " 

Tliis  astonished  and' amazed  me  to  such  extent  of  loss  of 
mind,  that  when  I  got  up  1  looked  about,  and  thought  what 


246  LORNA   BOONE. 

the  Siiowes  would  think  of  it.     And  I  said  to  the  King,  witli- 
out  forms  of  speech, — 

"  Sir,  I  am  very  much  obliged.     But  what  be  I  to  do  with 
it?" 


CHAPTER   LXIX. 

NOT    TO    BE    PUT    UP    WITH. 

The  coat  of  arms,  devised  for  me  by  the  Royal  heralds,  was 
of  great  size,  and  rich  colors,  and  full  of  bright  imaginings. 
They  did  me  the  honor  to  consult  me  first,  and  to  take  no  notice 
of  my  advice.  For  I  begged  that  there  might  be  a  good-sized 
cow  on  it,  so  as  to  stamp  our  pats  of  butter  before  they  went 
to  market :  also  a  horse  on  the  other  side,  and  a  flock  snowed 
up  at  the  bottom.  But  the  gentlemen  would  not  hear  of  this; 
and  to  find  something  more  apjjropriate,  they  inquired  strictly 
into  the  annals  of  our  family.  I  told  them,  of  course,  all  about 
King  Alfred ;  upon  which  they  settled  that  one  quarter  should 
be,  three  cakes  on  a  bar,  with  a  lion  regardant,  done  upon  a 
field  of  gold.  Also  I  told  them  that  very  likely  there  had 
been  a  Ridd  in  the  battle  fought  not  very  far  from  Plover's 
Barrows,  by  the  Earl  of  Devon  against  the  Danes,  when  Hubba 
their  chief  was  killed,  and  the  sacred  standard  taken.  As 
some  of  the  Danes  are  said  to  be  buried,  even  upon  land  of 
ours,  and  we  call  their  graves  (if  such  they  be)  even  to  this 
day  "barrows,"  the  heralds  quite  agreed  with  me  that  a  Ridd 
might  have  been  there,  or  thereabouts ;  and  if  he  was  there, 
he  was  almost  certain  to  have  done  his  best,  being  in  sight  of 
hearth  and  home;  and  it  was  plain  that  he  must  have  had 
good  legs,  to  be  at  the  same  time  both  there  and  in  Athelney; 
but  good  legs  are  an  argument  for  good  arms,  and  supposing 
a  man  of  this  sort  to  have  done  his  utmost  (as  the  manner  of 
the  Ridds  is),  it  was  next  to  certain  that  he  himself  must 
have  captured  the  standard.  Moreover  the  name  of  our  farm 
was  pure  proof;  a  plover  being  a  wild  bird,  just  the  same  as 
a  raven  is.  Upon  this  chain  of  reasoning,  and  without  any 
weak  misgiving,  they  charged  my  growing  escutcheon  with  a 
black  raven  on  a  ground  of  red.  And  the  next  thing  which  I 
mentioned  possessing  absolute  certainty,  to  wit,  that  a  pig 
with  two  heads  had  been  born  upon  our  farm,  not  more  than 
two  liundred  years  agone  (although  he  died  within  a  week), 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT   UP    WITH.  247 

my  third  quarter  was  made  at  once,  by  a  two-headed  boar  with 
noble  tusks,  sable  upon  silver.  All  this  was  very  fierce  and 
fine;  and  so  I  pressed  for  a  peaceful  corner  in  the  lower  dex- 
ter, and  obtained  a  wheat-sheaf  set  upright,  gold  upon  a  field 
of  green. 

Here  I  was  inclined  to  pause,  and  admire  the  effect;  for 
even  De  Whichehalse  could  not  show  a  bearing  so  magnificent. 
But  the  heralds  said  that  it  looked  a  mere  sign-board,  with- 
out a  good  motto  under  it;  and  the  motto  must  have  my  name 
in  it.  They  offered  me  first,  "Ridd  non  ridendus;"  but  I 
said,  "for  God's  sake,  gentlemen,  let  me  forget  my  Latin." 
Then  they  proposed,  "  Ridd  readeth  riddles : "  but  I  begged 
them  not  to  set  down  such  a  lie;  for  no  Ridd  ever  had  made, 
or  made  out,  such  a  thing  as  a  riddle,  since  Exmoor  itself 
began.  Thirdly,  they  gave  me,  "Ridd  never  be  ridden,"  and 
fearing  to  make  any  further  objections,  I  let  them  inscribe  it 
in  bronze  upon  blue.  The  heralds  thought  that  the  King 
would  pay  for  this  noble  achievement;  but  His  Majesty, 
although  graciously  pleased  with  their  ingenuity,  declined  in 
the  most  decided  manner  to  pay  a  farthing  towards  it;  and  as 
I  had  no  money  left,  the  heralds  became  as  blue  as  azure,  and 
as  red  as  gules ;  until  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  came  forward 
very  kindly,  and  said  that  if  His  Majesty  gave  me  a  coat  of 
arms,  I  was  not  to  pay  for  it;  therefore  she  herself  did  so 
quite  handsomely,  and  felt  good  will  towards  me  in  conse- 
quence. 

Now  being  in  a  hurry  —  so  far  at  least  as  it  is  in  my  nature 
to  hurry  —  to  get  to  the  end  of  this  narrative,  is  it  likely 
that  I  would  have  dwelled  so  long  upon  my  coat  of  arms,  but 
for  some  good  reason?  And  this  good  reason  is  that  Lorna 
took  the  greatest  pride  in  it,  and  thought  (or  at  any  rate  said), 
that  it  quite  threw  into  tlie  sliade,  and  eclipsed,  all  her  own 
ancient  glories.  And  half  in  fun,  and  half  in  earnest,  she 
called  me  *'  Sir  John  "  so  continually,  that  at  last  I  was  almost 
angry  with  her;  until  lier  eyes  were  bedewed  with  tears;  and 
tlien  I  was  angry  witli  inys(df. 

Beginning  to  be  short  of  money,  and  growing  anxious  about 
tlie  farm,  longing  also  to  show  myself  and  my  noble  escutch- 
eon to  mother,  I  took  advantage  of  Lady  Lorua's  interest  witli 
the  Queen,  to  obtain  my  actpiittance  and  I'ull  discharge  from 
even  nominal  custody.  It  had  been  intended  to  keep  me  in 
waiting,  until  tlie  return  of  Lord  Jeffreys  from  that  awful 
circuit  of  sluunldcs,  tlirongli  whicli  liis  name  is  still  used  by 
mothers  to  frighten  tlieir  children  into  bed.      And  right  glad 


248  LOBNA  BOONE. 

was  I  —  for  even  London  shrank  with  horror  at  the  news  —  to 
escape  a  man  so  blood-thirsty,  savage,  and  even  to  his  friends 
(among  whom  I  was  reckoned)  malignant. 

Earl  Brandir  was  greatly  pleased  with  me,  not  only  for 
having  saved  his  life,  bnt  for  saving  that  which  he  valued 
more,  the  wealth  laid  by  for  Lord  Alan.  And  he  introduced 
me  to  many  great  people,  who  quite  kindly  encouraged  me, 
and  promised  to  help  me  in  every  way,  when  they  heard  how 
the  King  had  spoken.  As  for  the  furrier,  he  could  never  have 
enough  of  my  society ;  and  this  worthy  man,  praying  my  com- 
mendation, demanded  of  me  one  thing  only  —  to  speak  of  him 
as  I  found  him.  As  I  had  found  him,  many  a  Sunday,  fur- 
bishing up  old  furs  for  new,  with  a  glaze  to  conceal  the  moth's 
ravages,  I  begged  him  to  reconsider  the  point,  and  not  to 
demand  such  accuracy.  He  said,  "Well,  well;  all  trades  had 
tricks ;  especially  the  trick  of  business ;  and  I  must  take  him 
—  if  I  were  his  true  friend  —  according  to  his  own  descrip- 
tion." This  I  was  glad  enough  to  do;  because  it  saved  so 
much  trouble,  and  I  had  no  money  to  spend  with  him.  But 
still  he  requested  the  use  of  my  name;  and  I  begged  him  to 
do  the  best  with  it,  as  I  never  had  kept  a  banker.  And  the 
"John  Kidd  cuffs,"  and  the  "Sir  John  mantles,"  and  the 
"Holly-staff  capes,"  he  put  into  his  window,  as  the  winter 
was  coming  on,  ay  and  sold  (for  every  body  was  burning  with 
gossip  about  me),  must  have  made  this  good  man's  fortune; 
since  the  excess  of  price  over  value  is  the  true  test  of  success 
in  life. 

To  come  away  from  all  this  stuff,  which  grieves  a  man  in 
London  —  when  the  brisk  air  of  the  autumn  cleared  its  way 
to  Ludgate  Hill,  and  clever  'prentices  ran  out  and  sniffed  at 
it,  and  fed  upon  it  (having  little  else  to  eat) ;  and  when  the 
horses  from  the  country  were  a  goodly  sight  to  see,  with  the 
rasp  of  winter  bristles  rising  through  and  among  the  soft  sum- 
mer-coat; and  when  the  new  straw  began  to  come  in,  golden 
with  the  harvest-gloss,  and  smelling  most  divinely,  at  those 
strange  livery-stables  where  the  nags  are  put  quite  tail  to  tail ; 
and  when  all  the  London  folk  themselves  were  asking  about 
white  frost  (from  recollections  of  childhood) ;  then,  I  say, 
such  a  yearning  seized  me  for  moory  crag,  and  for  dewy  blade, 
and  even  the  grunting  of  our  sheep  (when  the  sun  goes  down), 
that  nothing  but  the  new  wisps  of  Samson  could  have  held 
me  in  London  town. 

Lorna  was  moved  with  equal  longing  towards  the  country, 
and  country  ways ;  and  she  spoke  quite  as  much  of  the  glis- 


NOT   To  BE  PUT   UP    WITH.  249 

tening  dew,  as  slie  did  of  the  smell  of  our  oven.  And  here 
let  me  mention  —  although  the  two  are  quite  distinct  and 
different  —  that  both  the  dew,  and  the  bread,  of  Exmoor  may- 
be sought,  whether  high  or  low,  but  never  found  elsewhere. 
The  dew  is  so  crisp,  and  pure,  and  pearly,  and  in  such  abun- 
dance; and  the  bread  is  so  sweet,  so  kind,  and  homely,  you 
can  eat  a  loaf,  and  then  another. 

Now,  while  I  was  walking  daily  in  and  out  great  crowds  of 
men  (few  of  whom  had  any  freedom  from  the  cares  of  money, 
and  many  of  whom  were  even  morbid  with  a  worse  pest,  called 
"politics  "),  I  could  not  be  quit  of  thinking  how  we  jostle  one 
another.  God  has  made  the  earth  quite  large,  with  a  spread 
of  land  enough  for  all  to  live  on,  without  lighting.  Also  a 
mighty  spread  of  water,  laying  hands  on  sand  and  cliff,  with 
a  solemn  voice  in  storm-time;  and  in  the  gentle  Aveather 
moving  men  to  thoughts  of  equity.  This,  as  well,  is  full  of 
food ;  being  two-thirds  of  the  world,  and  reserved  for  devour- 
ing knowledge,  by  the  time  the  sons  of  men  have  fed  away 
the  dry  land.  Yet  before  the  land  itself  has  acknowledged 
touch  of  man,  upon  one  in  a  hundred  acres ;  and  before  one 
mile  in  ten  thousand  of  the  exhaustless  ocean  has  ever  felt 
the  plunge  of  hook,  or  combing  of  the  haul-nets ;  lo,  we  crawl, 
in  flocks  together,  upon  the  hot  ground  that  stings  us,  even  as 
the  black  grubs  crowd  upon  the  harried  nettle !  Surely  we  are 
too  much  given  to  follow  the  tracks  of  each  other. 

However,  for  a  moralist  I  never  set  up,  and  never  shall, 
while  common  sense  abides  with  me.  Such  a  man  must  be 
truly  wretched,  in  this  pure  dearth  of  morality;  like  a  fisher- 
man where  no  fish  be;  and  most  of  us  have  enough  to  do,  to 
attend  to  our  own  morals.  Enough  that  I  resolved  to  go; 
and  as  Lorna  could  not  come  with  me,  it  was  even  worse  than 
stopping.  Nearly  every  body  vowed  that  T  Avas  a  great  fool 
indeed,  to  neglect  so  rudely  —  which  was  the  proper  word, 
they  said  —  the  pushing  of  my  fortunes.  But  I  answered  that 
to  push  was  rude,  and  I  left  it  to  people  who  had  no  room; 
and  thought  that  my  fortune  must  be  heSLVj,  if  it  would  not 
move  without  pushing. 

Lorna  cried,  when  I  came  away  (which  gave  me  great  satis- 
faction), and  she  sent  a  whole  trunkful  of  things  for  mother, 
and  Annie,  and  even  Lizzie.  And  she  seemed  to  think, 
though  she  said  it  not,  that  I  made  my  own  occasion  for 
going,  and  miglit  have  stayed  on  till  the  winter.  Whereas  T 
know  well  tliat  my  mother  would  think  (and  every  one  on  the 
farm  the  same)  that  here  1  had  been  in  London,  lagging,  and 


250  LORNA   DOONE. 

taking  my  pleasure,  and  looking  at  shops,  upon  pretence  of 
King's  business,  and  leaving  the  harvest  to  reap  itself,  not  to 
mention  the  spending  of  money;  while  all  the  time  there  was 
nothing  whatever,  except  my  own  love  of  adventure  and  sport, 
to  keep  me  from  coming  home  again.  But  I  knew  that  my 
coat  of  arms,  and  title,  would  turn  every  bit  of  this  grumbling 
into  fine  admiration. 

And  so  it  fell  out,  to  a  greater  extent  than  even  I  desired :  for 
all  the  parishes  round  about  united  in  a  sumptuous  dinner,  at 
the  Mother  Melldrum  inn  —  for  now  that  good  lady  was  dead, 
and  her  name  and  face  set  on  a  sign-post  —  to  wliich  I  was 
invited,  so  that  it  was  as  good  as  a  summons.  And  if  my 
health  was  no  better  next  day,  it  was  not  from  want  of  good 
wishes,  any  more  than  from  stint  of  the  liquor. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  real  gentry  for  a  long  time 
treated  my  new  honors  with  contempt  and  ridicule;  but 
gradually  as  they  found  that  I  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  claim 
any  equality  with  them,  but  went  about  my  farm-work,  and 
threw  another  man  at  wrestling,  and  touched  my  hat  to  the 
magistrates,  just  the  same  as  ever:  some  gentlemen  of  the 
highest  blood  —  of  which  we  think  a  great  deal  more  than  of 
gold,  around  our  neighborhood  —  actually  expressed  a  desire  to 
make  my  acquaintance.  And  when,  in  a  manner  quite  straight- 
forward, and  wholly  free  from  bitterness,  I  thanked  them  for 
this  (which  appeared  to  me  the  highest  honor  yet  offered  me), 
but  declined  to  go  into  their  company,  because  it  would  make 
me  uncomfortable,  and  themselves  as  well,  in  a  different  way 
—  they  did  what  nearly  all  Englishmen  do,  when  a  thing  is 
right  and  sensible.  They  shook  hands  with  me;  and  said 
that  they  could  not  deny  but  that  there  was  reason  in  my  view 
of  the  matter.  And  although  they  themselves  must  be  the 
losers  —  which  was  a  handsome  thing  to  say  —  they  would 
wait  until  I  was  a  little  older,  and  more  aware  of  my  own 
value. 

Now  this  reminds  me  how  it  is  that  an  English  gentleman 
is  so  far  in  front  of  foreign  noblemen  and  princes.  I  have 
seen,  at  times,  a  little,  both  of  one  and  of  the  other;  and 
making  more  than  due  allowance  for  the  difficulties  of  lan- 
guage, and  the  difference  of  training,  upon  the  whole  the 
balance  is  in  favor  of  our  people.  And  this,  because  we  have 
two  weights,  solid  and  (even  in  scale  of  manners)  outweighing 
all  light  complaisance;  to  wit,  the  inborn  love  of  justice,  and 
the  power  of  abiding. 

Yet  some  people  may  be  surprised,  that  men  with  any  love 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT   UP    WITH.  251 

of  justice,  whether  inborn  or  otherwise,  couhl  continue  to 
abide  the  arrogance,  and  rapacity,  and  tyranny  of  the  Doones. 

For  now  as  the  winter  passed,  the  Doones  were  not  keeping 
themselves  at  home,  as  in  honor  they  were  bound  to  do. 
Twenty  sheep  a  week,  and  one  fat  ox,  and  two  stout  red  deer 
(for  wholesome  change  of  diet),  as  well  as  threescore  bushels 
of  flour,  and  two  hogsheads  and  a  half  of  cider,  and  a  hun- 
dredweight of  candles,  not  to  mention  other  things  of  almost 
every  variety,  which  they  got  by  insisting  upon  it  —  surely 
these  might  have  sufficed  to  keep  the  robbers  happy  in  their 
place,  with  no  outburst  of  wantonness.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
not  so;  they  had  made  complaint  about  something  —  too  mucli 
ewe-mutton,  I  think  it  was  —  and  in  spite  of  all  the  pledges 
given,  they  had  ridden  forth,  and  carried  away  two  maidens 
of  our  neighborhood. 

Now  these  two  maidens  were  known,  because  they  had 
served  the  beer  at  an  ale-house;  and  many  men  who  had 
looked  at  them,  over  a  pint  or  quart  vessel  (especially  as  they 
were  comely  girls),  thought  that  it  was  very  hard  for  them  to 
go  in  that  way,  and  perhaps  themselves  unwilling.  And  their 
mother  (although  she  liad  taken  some  money,  which  the 
Doones  were  always  full  of)  declared  that  it  was  a  robbery; 
and  though  it  increased  for  a  while  the  custom,  that  must  soon 
fall  off  again.  And  who  would  have  her  two  girls  now,  clever 
as  they  were  and  good? 

Before  we  liad  finished  meditating  upon  this  loose  outrage 
—  for  so  I  at  least  would  call  it,  tliough  people  accustomed  to 
the  law  may  take  a  different  view  of  it  —  we  had  news  of  a 
tiling  far  worse,  which  turned  the  hearts  of  our  women  sick. 
This  I  will  tell  in  most  careful  language,  so  as  to  give  offence 
to  none,  if  skill  of  words  may  help  it.^ 

Mistress  Margery  Badcoc'k,  a  healthy  and  upright  young 
woman,  with  a  good  rich  color,  and  one  of  the  finest  hen- 
roosts any  where  round  our  neighborhood,  was  nursing  her 
child  about  six  of  the  clock,  and  looking  out  for  licr  husband. 
Now  this  cliild  was  too  old  to  be  nursed,  as  everybody  told 
her;  for  he  could  run  say  two  yards  alone,  and  perhaps  four 
or  five,  by  holding  two  liandles.  And  he  liad  a  way  of  look- 
ing round,  and  s])rea(1ing  his  legs,  and  laughing,  with  his 
brave  little  body  well  fcrtclicd  u]),  after  a  dc^sperate  journey  to 
the  end   of  the  table,  which  his  mother  said   nothing  could 

^  Tlio  following  story  is  striVfly  trnf  ;  mtkI  true  it  is  Mia.l  t.lic  ciuiiitry- 
peoplo  roHc,  to  a  lauii,  ;U,  this  dusUnl  cruelty,  and  did  what  tliu  tjuvcru- 
inent  failed  to  do. —  Ej>.  L.  I). 


252  LORNA  DOONE. 

equal.  Nevertheless  lie  would  come  to  be  nursed,  as  regular 
as  a  clock  almost;  and  inasmuch  as  he  was  the  first,  both 
father  and  mother  made  much  of  him;  for  God  only  knew 
whether  they  could  ever  compass  such  another  one. 

Christopher  Badcock  Avas  a  tenant  farmer,  in  the  parish  of 
Martinhoe,  renting  some  fifty  acres  of  land,  with  a  right  of 
common  attached  to  them ;  and  at  this  particular  time,  being 
now  the  month  of  February,  and  fine  open  weather,  he  was 
hard  at  work  ploughing,  and  preparing  for  spring  corn. 
Therefore  his  wife  was  not  surprised,  although  the  dusk  was 
falling,  that  Farmer  Christopher  should  be  at  work  in  "  blind 
man's  holiday,"  as  we  call  it. 

But  she  was  surprised,  nay  astonished,  when  by  the  light  of 
the  kitchen  fire  (brightened  up  for  her  husband)  she  saw  six 
or  seven  great  armed  men  burst  into  the  room  upon  her;  and 
she  screamed  so  that  the  maid  in  the  back  kitchen  heard  her, 
but  was  afraid  to  come  to  help.  Two  of  the  strongest  and 
fiercest  men  at  once  seized  poor  young  Margery;  and  though 
she  fought  for  her  child  and  home,  she  was  but  an  infant  her- 
self in  their  hands.  In  spite  of  tears  and  shrieks  and 
struggles,  they  tore  the  babe  from  the  mother's  arms,  and  cast 
it  on  the  lime-ash  floor;  then  they  bore  her  away  to  their 
horses  (for  by  this  time  she  was  senseless),  and  telling  the 
others  to  sack  the  house,  rode  off  with  their  prize  to  the  valley. 
And  from  the  description  of  one  of  those  two,  who  carried  off 
the  poor  woman,  I  knew  beyond  all  doubt  that  it  was  Carver 
Doone  himself. 

The  other  Doones  being  left  behind,  and  grieved  perhaps  in 
some  respects,  set  to  with  a  will  to  scour  the  house,  and  to 
bring  away  all  that  was  good  to  eat.  And  being  a  little  vexed 
herein  (for  the  Badcocks  were  not  a  rich  couple),  and  finding 
no  more  than  bacon,  and  eggs,  and  cheese,  and  little  items, 
and  nothing  to  drink  but  water;  in  a  word,  their  taste  being 
offended,  they  came  back  to  the  kitchen,  and  stamped;  and 
there  was  the  baby  lying. 

By  evil  luck,  this  child  began  to  squeal  about  his  mother, 
having  been  petted  hitherto,  and  wont  to  get  all  he  wanted, 
by  raising  his  voice  but  a  little.  Now  the  mark  of  the  floor 
was  upon  his  head;  as  the  maid  (who  had  stolen  to  look  at 
him,  when  the  rough  men  were  swearing  upstairs)  gave  evi- 
dence. And  she  put  a  dish-cloth  under  his  head,  and  kissed 
him,  and  ran  away  again.  Her  name  was  Honour  Jose,  and 
she  meant  what  was  right  by  her  master  and  mistress;  but 
could  not   help  being  frightened.     And  many  women    have 


NOT   TO  BE  PUT   UP    WITH.  253 

blamed  her,  and  as  I  think  unduly,  for  her  mode  of  forsaking 
baby  so.  If  it  had  been  her  own  baby,  instinct  rather  than 
reason  might  have  had  the  day  with  her;  but  the  child  being 
born  of  her  mistress,  she  wished  him  good  luck,  and  left  him, 
as  the  fierce  men  came  downstairs.  And  being  alarmed  by 
their  power  of  language  (because  they  had  found  no  silver), 
she  crept  away  in  breathless  hurry,  and  afraid  how  her  breath 
might  come  back  to  her.     For  oftentime  she  had  hiccoughs. 

While  this  good  maid  was  in  the  oven,  by  side  of  back 
kitchen  fire-place,  with  a  faggot  of  wood  drawn  over  her,  and 
lying  so  that  her  own  heart  beat  worse  than  if  she  were  bak- 
ing; the  men  (as  I  said  before)  came  downstairs,  and  stamped 
around  the  baby. 

"  Rowland,  is  the  bacon  good?  "  one  of  them  asked,  with  an 
oath  or  two :  "  it  is  too  bad  of  Carver  to  go  oif  with  the  only 
prize,  and  leave  us  in  a  starving  cottage ;  and  not  enough  to 
eat  for  two  of  us.  Eetch  down  the  staves  of  the  rack,  my  boy. 
What  was  farmer  to  have  for  supper?" 

"  Nought  but  an  onion  or  two,  and  a  loaf,  and  a  rasher  of 
rusty  bacon.  These  poor  devils  live  so  badly,  they  are  not 
Avorth  robbing." 

"No  game!  Then  let  us  have  a  game  of  loriot  with  the 
baby!  It  will  be  the  best  thing  that  could  befall  a  lusty 
infant  heretic.  Ride  a  cock-horse  to  Banbury  Cross.  Bye, 
bye,  baby  Bunting;  toss  him  up,  and  let  me  see  if  my  wrist 
be  steady." 

The  cruelty  of  this  man  is  a  thing  it  makes  me  sick  to  speak 
of;  enough  that  when  the  poor  baby  fell  (without  attempt  at 
cry  or  scream,  thinking  it  part  of  his  usual  play,  when  they 
tossed  him  up,  to  come  down  again),  the  maid  in  the  oven  of 
the  back-kitchen,  not  being  any  door  between,  heard  them  say 
as  follows :  — 

"  If  any  man  asketh  who  killed  thee, 
Say  'Uvas  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy."  ^ 

Now  I  think  that  when  we  heard  this  story,  and  poor  Kit 
Badcock  came  all  around,  in  a  sort  of  half-crazy  manner,  not 
looking  up  at  any  one,  but  dropping  his  eyes,  and  asking 
whether  we  thought  he  had  been  well-trciated,  and  seeming 
void  of  regard  for  life,  if  this  were  all  the  style  of  it;  then, 
having  known  him  a  lusty  man,  and  a  fine  singer  in  an  ale- 

1  Always  pronounced  "  Badgory." 


254  LOBNA  BOONE. 

house,  and  miicli  inclined  to  lay  down  the  law,  and  show  a 
high  hand  about  women,  I  really  think  that  it  moved  us  more 
than  if  he  had  gone  about  ranting,  and  raving,  and  vowing 
revenge  upon  every  one. 


CHAPTER   LXX. 

COMPELLED    TO    VOLUNTEER. 

There  had  been  some  trouble  in  our  own  home,  during  the 
previous  autumn,  while  yet  I  was  in  London.  For  certain 
noted  fugitives  from  the  army  of  King  Monmouth  (which  he 
himself  had  deserted,  in  a  low  and  currish  manner),  having 
failed  to  obtain  free  shipment  from  the  coast  near  Waters- 
mouth,  had  returned  into  the  wilds  of  Exmoor,  trusting  to 
lurk,  and  be  comforted,  among  the  common  people.  Neither 
were  they  disappointed,  for  a  certain  length  of  time;  nor  in 
the  end  was  their  disappointment  caused  by  fault  on  our  part. 
Major  Wade  was  one  of  them;  an  active  and  well-meaning 
man;  but  prone  to  fail  in  courage,  upon  lasting  trial,  altliough 
in  a  moment  ready.  Squire  John  Whichehalse  (not  the 
Baron)  and  Parson  Powell  ^  caught  him,  two  or  three  months 
before  my  return,  in  Farley  farm-house,  near  Brendon.  He 
had  been  up  at  our  house  several  times ;  and  Lizzie  thought 
a  great  deal  of  him.  And  well  I  know  that  if  at  that  time 
I  had  been  in  the  neighborhood,  he  should  not  have  been 
taken  so  easily. 

John  Birch,  the  farmer  who  had  sheltered  him,  was  so  fear- 
ful of  punishment  that  he  hanged  himself,  in  a  few  days'  time, 
and  even  before  he  was  apprehended.  But  nothing  was  done 
to  Grace  Howe,  of  Bridgeball,  who  had  been  Wade's  greatest 
comforter ;  neither  was  any  thing  done  to  us ;  although  Eliza 
added  greatly  to  mother's  alarm  and  danger,  by  falling  upon 
Rector  Powell,  and  most  soundly  rating  him  for  his  meanness, 
and  his  cruelty,  and  cowardice,  as  she  called  it,  in  setting 
men  with  fire-arms  upon  a  poor  helpless  fugitive,  and  robbing 
all  our  neighborhood  of  its  fame  for  hospitality.  However, 
by  means  of  Serjeant  Bloxham,  and  his  good  report  of  us,  as 

1  Not  our  Parson  Bowden,  nor  any  more  a  friend  of  his.  Our  Parson 
Bowden  never  had  naught  whatever  to  do  with  it ;  and  never  smoked  a 
pipe  with  Parson  Powell  after  it. — J.  R. 


COMPELLED    TO    VOLUNTEER.  265 

"well  as  by  virtue  of  Wade's  confession  (which  proved  of  use 
to  the  government)  my  mother  escaped  all  penalties. 

It  is  likely  enough  that  good  folk  -will  think  it  hard  upon 
our  neighborhood,  to  be  threatened,  and  sometimes  heavily 
punished,  for  kindness  and  humanity;  and  yet  to  be  left  to 
help  ourselves  against  tyranny,  and  base  rapine.  And  now  at 
last  our  gorge  was  risen,  and  our  hearts  in  tumult.  We  had 
borne  our  troubles  long,  as  a  wise  and  wholesome  chastisement ; 
quite  content  to  have  some  few  things  of  our  own  unmeddled 
with.  But  what  could  a  man  dare  to  call  his  own,  or  what 
right  could  he  have  to  wish  for  it,  while  he  left  his  wife  and 
children  at  the  pleasure  of  any  stranger? 

The  people  came  flocking  all  around  me,  at  the  blacksmith's 
forge,  and  the  Brendon  ale-house ;  and  I  could  scarce  come  out 
of  church,  but  they  got  me  among  the  tombstones.  They  all 
agreed  that  I  was  bound  to  take  command  and  management. 
I  bade  them  go  to  the  magistrates,  but  they  said  they  had  been 
too  often.  Then  I  told  them  that  I  had  no  wits  for  ordering 
of  an  armament,  although  I  could  find  fault  enough  with  the 
one  which  had  not  succeeded.  But  they  would  hearken  to 
none  of  this.  All  they  said  was,  "  Try  to  lead  us ;  and  we  will 
try  not  to  run  away." 

This  seemed  to  me  to  be  common  sense,  and  good  stuff,  instead 
of  mere  bragging :  moreover,  I  myself  was  moved  by  the  bitter 
wrongs  of  Margery,  having  known  her  at  the  Sunday-school, 
ere  ever  I  went  to  Tiverton ;  and  having,  in  those  days,  serious 
thoughts  of  making  her  my  sweetheart ;  although  she  was  three 
years  my  elder.  But  now  I  felt  this  difliculty  —  the  Doones 
had  behaved  very  well  to  our  farm,  and  to  mother,  and  all  of 
us,  Avhile  I  was  away  in  London.  Therefore  would  it  not  be 
shabby,  and  mean,  for  me  to  attack  them  now? 

Yet  being  pressed  still  harder  and  harder,  as  day  by  day  the 
excitement  grew  (with  more  and  more  talking  over  it),  and  no 
one  else  coming  forward  to  undertake  the  business,  I  agreed  at 
last  to  this;  that  if  the  Doones,  upon  fair  challenge,  would 
not  endeavor  to  make  amends,  by  giving  up  Mistress  Margery, 
as  well  as  the  man  who  had  slain  tlie  babe,  then  I  would  lead 
the  expedition,  and  do  my  best  to  subdue  them.  All  our  men 
were  content  with  this,  being  thoroughly  well  assured,  from 
experience,  that  the  liaughty  robbers  would  only  shoot  any 
man  who  durst  approach  them  with  such  proposal. 

And  then  arose  a  difficult  question  —  who  was  to  take  the 
risk  of  making  overtures  so  un]deasant?  I  waited  for  the  rest 
to  offer;  and  as  none  was  ready,  the  burden  fell  on  me,  and 


256  LOBNA  DOONE. 

seemed  to  be  of  my  own  inviting.  Hence  I  undertook  tlie  task, 
sooner  than  reason  about  it;  for  to  give  the  cause  of  every 
thing  is  worse  than  to  go  through  with  it. 

It  may  have  been  three  of  the  afternoon,  when  leaving  my 
witnesses  behind  (for  they  preferred  the  background)  I  appeared 
with  our  Lizzie's  white  handkercliief  upon  a  kidney-bean  stick, 
at  the  entrance  to  the  robbers'  dwelling.  Scarce  knowing  what 
might  come  of  it,  I  had  taken  the  wise  precaution  of  fastening 
a  Bible  over  my  heart,  and  another  across  my  spinal  column, 
in  case  of  having  to  run  away,  with  rude  men  shooting  after 
me.  For  my  mother  said  that  the  Word  of  God  would  stop  a 
two-inch  bullet  with  three  ounces  of  powder  behind  it.  Now 
I  took  no  weapons  save  those  of  the  Spirit,  for  fear  of  being 
misunderstood.  But  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  think  that 
any  of  honorable  birth  wou.ld  take  advantage  of  an  unarmed 
man  coming  in  guise  of  peace  to  them. 

And  this  conclusion  of  mine  held  good,  at  least  for  a  certain 
length  of  time ;  inasmuch  as  two  decent  Doones  appeared,  and 
hearing  of  my  purpose,  offered,  without  violence,  to  go  and 
fetch  the  Captain ;  if  I  would  stop  where  I  was,  and  not  begin 
to  spy  about  any  thing.  To  this,  of  course,  I  agreed  at  once; 
for  I  wanted  no  more  spying,  because  I  had  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  all  ins  and  outs  already.  Therefore,  I  stood  waiting 
steadily,  with  one  hand  in  my  pocket  feeling  a  sample  of  corn 
for  market;  and  the  other  against  the  rock,  while  I  wondered 
to  see  it  so  brown  already. 

Those  men  came  back  in  a  little  while,  with  a  sharp  short 
message  that  Captain  Carver  would  come  out  and  speak  to  me^ 
by-and-by,  when  his  pipe  was  finished.  Accordingly,  I  waited 
long,  and  we  talked  about  the  signs  of  bloom  for  the  coming 
apple  season,  and  the  rain  that  had  fallen  last  Wednesday 
night,  and  the  principal  dearth  of  Devonshire,  that  it  will  not 
grow  many  cowslips  —  which  we  quite  agreed  to  be  the  prettiest 
of  spring  flowers ;  and  all  the  time  I  was  wondering  how  many 
black  and  deadly  deeds  these  two  innocent  youths  had  com- 
mitted, even  since  last  Christmas. 

At  length,  a  heavy  and  haughty  step  sounded  along  the  stone 
roof  of  the  way ;  and  then  the  great  Carver  Doone  drew  up, 
and  looked  at  me  rather  scornfully.  Not  with  any  spoken 
scorn,  nor  flash  of  strong  contumely;  but  with  that  air  of 
thinking  little,  and  praying  not  to  be  troubled,  which  always 
vexes  a  man  who  feels  that  he  ought  not  to  be  despised  so,  and 
yet  knows  not  how  to  help  it. 

"  What  is  it  you  want,  young  man?"  he  asked,  as  if  he  had 
never  seen  me  before. 


COMPELLED   TO    VOLUNTEER.  257 

In  spite  of  that  strong  loathing,  Avliich  I  always  felt  at  sight 
of  him,  1  commanded  my  temper  moderately,  and  told  him  that 
I  was  come  for  his  good,  and  that  of  his  worshipful  company, 
far  more  than  for  my  own.  That  a  general  feeling  of  indigna- 
tion had  arisen  among  us,  at  the  recent  behavior  of  certain 
young  men,  for  which  he  might  not  be  answerable,  and  for 
which  we  would  not  condemn  him,  without  knowing  the  rights 
of  the  question.  But  I  begged  him  clearly  to  understand,  that 
a  vile  and  inhuman  wrong  had  been  done,  and  such  as  we  could 
not  put  up  with ;  but  that  if  he  would  make  what  amends  he 
could  by  restoring  the  poor  woman,  and  giving  up  tliat  odious 
brute  who  had  slain  the  harmless  infant,  we  would  take  no 
further  motion;  and  things  should  go  on  as  usual.  As  I  put 
this  in  the  fewest  words  that  would  meet  my  purpose,  I  was 
grieved  to  see  a  disdainful  smile  spread  on  his  sallow  counte- 
nance. Then  he  made  me  a  bow  of  mock  courtesy,  and  replied 
as  follows :  — 

"  Sir  John,  your  new  honors  have  turned  your  poor  head,  as 
might  have  been  expected.  We  are  not  in  the  habit  of  desert- 
ing any  thing  that  belongs  to  us;  far  less  our  sacred  relatives. 
The  insolence  of  your  demands  well-nigh  outdoes  the  ingrati- 
tude. If  there  be  a  man  upon  Exmoor,  who  has  grossly  ill- 
used  us,  kidnapped  our  young  women,  and  slain  half  a  dozen 
of  our  young  men,  you  are  that  outrageous  rogue.  Sir  John. 
And  after  all  this,  how  have  we  behaved?  We  have  laid  no 
hand  upon  your  farm,  we  have  not  carried  off  your  women,  we 
have  even  allowed  you  to  take  our  Queen,  by  creeping  and 
crawling  treachery ;  and  we  have  given  you  leave  of  absence  to 
help  your  cousin  the  highwayman,  and  to  come  home  with  a 
title.  And  now,  how  do  you  requite  us?  By  inflaming  the 
boorish  indignation  at  a  little  frolic  of  our  young  men;  and 
by  coming  with  insolent  demands,  to  yield  to  which  would 
ruin  us.     Ah,  you  ungrateful  viper!  " 

As  he  turned  away  in  sorrow  from  me,  shaking  his  head  at 
my  badness,  I  became  so  overcome  (never  having  been  quite 
assured,  even  by  peoples'  praises,  about  my  own  goodness), 
moreover  the  light  which  he  threw  upon  things  differed  so 
greatly  from  my  own,  that,  in  a  word  —  not  to  be  too  long  — 
I  feared  that  I  was  a  villain.  And  with  many  bitter  pangs  — 
for  I  have  bad  things  to  repent  of —  I  began  at  my  leisure  to 
ask  myself,  whether  or  not  this  bill  of  indictment  against  John 
Ilidd  was  true.  Some  of  it  I  knew  to  be  (however  much  I 
condemned  myself)  altogether  out  of  reason;  for  instance, 
about  my  going  away  with  Lorna  very  quietly,  over  the  snow, 

VOL.  II.  — 17 


258  LOBNA  BOONE. 

and  to  save  my  love  from  being  starved  away  from  me.  In 
this  there  was  no  creeping,  neither  crawling  treachery;  for  all 
was  done  with  sliding :  and  yet  I  was  so  out  of  training  for 
being  charged  by  other  people  beyond  mine  own  conscience, 
that  Carver  Doone's  harsh  words  came  on  me  like  prickly 
spinach  sown  with  raking.     Therefore  I  replied,  and  said, — 

"  It  is  true  that  I  owe  you  gratitude,  sir,  for  a  certain  time 
of  forbearance;  and  it  is  to  prove  my  gratitude  that  I  am  come 
here  now.  I  do  not  think  that  my  evil  deeds  can  be  set  against 
your  own;  although  I  cannot  speak  flowingly  upon  my  good 
deeds,  as  you  can.  I  took  your  Queen  because  you  starved  her, 
having  stolen  her  long  before,  and  killed  her  mother  and 
brother.  This  is  not  for  me  to  dwell  upon  now;  any  more 
than  I  would  say  much  about  your  murdering  of  my  father. 
But  how  the  balance  hangs  between  us,  God  knows  better  than 
thou  or  I,  thou  low  miscreant.  Carver  Doone." 

I  had  worked  myself  up,  as  I  always  do,  in  the  manner  of 
heavy  men ;  growing  hot  like  an  ill-washered  wheel  revolving, 
though  I  start  with  a  cool  axle ;  and  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself 
for  heat,  and  ready  to  ask  pardon.  But  Carver  Doone  regarded 
me  with  a  noble  and  fearless  grandeur. 

"I  have  given  thee  thy  choice,  John  Eidd,"  he  said,  in  a 
lofty  manner,  which  made  me  drop  away  under  him :  "  I  always 
wish  to  do  my  best  with  the  worst  people  who  come  near  me. 
And  of  all  I  have  ever  met  with,  thou  art  the  very  worst,  Sir 
John,  and  the  most  dishonest." 

Now  after  all  my  laboring  to  pay  every  man  to  a  penny,  and 
to  allow  the  women  over,  when  among  the  couch-grass  (which 
is  a  sad  thing  for  their  gowns),  to  be  charged  like  this,  I  say, 
so  amazed  me,  that  I  stood,  with  my  legs  quite  open,  and  ready 
for  an  earthquake.  And  the  scornful  way  in  which  he  said 
"  Sir  John,"  went  to  my  very  lieart,  reminding  me  of  my  little- 
ness. But  seeing  no  use  in  bandying  words,  nay,  rather  the 
chance  of  mischief,  I  did  my  best  to  look  calmly  at  him,  and 
to  say  with  a  quiet  voice,  "Farewell,  Carver  Doone,  this  time; 
our  day  of  reckoning  is  nigh." 

"Thou  fool,  it  is  come,"  he  cried,  leaping  aside  into  the 
niche  of  rock  by  the  doorway:  "Fire!  " 

Save  for  the  quickness  of  spring,  and  readiness,  learned  in 
many  a  wrestling  bout,  that  knavish  trick  must  have  ended 
me :  but  scarce  was  the  word  "  Fire !  "  out  of  his  mouth  ere  I 
was  out  of  fire,  by  a  single  bound  behind  the  rocky  pillar  of 
the  opening.  In  this  jump  I  was  so  brisk,  at  impulse  of  the 
love  of  life  (for  I  saw  the  muzzles  set  upon  me  from  the  dark- 


COMPELLED   TO   VOLUNTEER.  269 

ness  of  the  cavern),  that  the  men  who  had  trained  their  guns 
upon  me  with  good  will  and  daintiness,  could  not  check  their 
fingers  crooked  upon  the  heavy  triggers ;  and  the  volley  sang 
with  a  roar  behind  it,  down  the  avenue  of  crags. 

With  one  thing  and  another,  and  most  of  all  the  treachery 
of  this  dastard  scheme,  I  was  so  amazed  that  I  turned  and  ran, 
at  the  very  top  of  my  speed,  away  from  these  vile  fellows ;  and 
luckily  for  me,  they  had  not  another  charge  to  send  after  me. 
And  thus  by  good  fortune,  I  escaped ;  but  with  a  bitter  heart, 
and  mind,  at  their  treacherous  usage. 

Without  any  further  hesitation,  I  agreed  to  take  command  of 
the  honest  men,  who  were  burning  to  punish,  ay  and  destroy, 
those  outlaws,  as  now  beyond  all  bearing.  One  condition 
however  I  made,  namely,  that  the  Counsellor  should  be  spared, 
if  possible :  not  because  he  was  less  a  villain  than  any  of  the 
others,  but  that  he  seemed  less  violent:  and  above  all,  had 
been  good  to  Annie.  And  I  found  hard  work  to  make  them 
listen  to  my  wish  upon  this  point;  for  of  all  the  Doones,  Sir 
Counsellor  had  made  himself  most  hated,  by  his  love  of  law 
and  reason. 

We  arranged  that  all  our  men  should  come,  and  fall  into 
order  with  pike  and  musket,  over  against  our  dunghill;  and  we 
settled,  early  in  the  day,  that  their  wives  might  come  and  look 
at  them.  For  most  of  these  men  had  good  wives;  quite  differ- 
ent from  sweethearts,  such  as  the  militia  had ;  women  indeed 
who  could  hold  to  a  man,  and  see  to  him,  and  bury  him  —  if 
his  luck  were  evil  —  and  perhaps  have  no  one  afterwards.  And 
all  these  women  pressed  their  rights  upon  their  precious  hus- 
bands, and  brought  so  many  children  with  them,  and  made 
such  a  fuss,  and  hugging,  and  racing  after  little  logs,  that  our 
farm-yard  might  be  taken  for  an  out-door  school  for  babies, 
rather  than  a  review-ground. 

I  myself  was  to  and  fro  among  the  children  continually;  for 
if  I  love  anything  in  the  world,  foremost  I  love  children. 
They  warm,  and  yet  they  cool  our  hearts,  as  we  tliink  of  what 
we  were,  and  what  in  young  clothes  we  hoped  to  be ;  and  how 
many  things  have  come  across.  And  to  see  our  motives  mov- 
ing in  the  little  things,  that  know  not  what  their  aim  or  object 
is,  must  almost,  or  ought  at  least,  to  lead  us  home,  and  soften 
us.  For  either  end  of  life  is  home;  both  source,  and  issue, 
being  God. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  confess,  that  the  children  were  a  plague 
s'ometimes.  They  never  could  have  enough  of  me  —  being  a 
liundred  to  one,  you  might  say  —  but  1  liad  more  than  enough 


260  LORNA   BOONE. 

of  them ;  and  yet  was  not  contented.  For  they  had  so  many 
ways  of  talking,  and  of  tugging  at  my  hair,  and  of  sitting  upon 
my  neck  (not  even  two  with  their  legs  alike),  and  they  forced 
me  to  jump  so  vehemently,  seeming  to  court  the  peril  of  my 
coming  down  ueck-and-crop  with  them,  and  urging  me  still  to 
go  faster,  however  fast  I  might  go  with  them ;  I  assure  you 
that  they  were  sometimes  so  hard  and  tyrannical  over  me,  that 
I  might  almost  as  well  have  been  among  the  very  Doones  them- 
selves. 

Nevertheless  the  way  in  which  the  children  made  me  useful 
proved  also  of  some  use  to  me;  for  their  mothers  were  so 
pleased,  by  the  exertions  of  the  "  great  Gee-gee  "  —  as  all  the 
small  ones  entitled  me  —  that  they  gave  me  unlimited  power 
and  authority  over  their  husbands;  moreover,  they  did  their 
utmost  among  their  relatives  round  about,  to  fetch  recruits  for 
our  little  band.  And  by  such  means,  several  of  the  yeomanry 
from  Barnstaple,  and  from  Tiverton,  were  added  to  our  number; 
and  inasmuch  as  these  were  armed  with  heavy  swords,  and  short 
carabines,  their  appearance  was  truly  formidable. 

Tom  Faggus  also  joined  us  heartily,  being  now  quite  healed 
of  his  wound,  except  at  times  when  the  wind  was  easterly. 
He  was  made  second  in  command  to  me ;  and  I  would  gladly 
have  had  him  first,  as  more  fertile  in  expedients ;  but  he  declined 
such  rank,  on  the  plea  that  I  knew  most  of  the  seat  of  war; 
besides,  that  I  might  be  held  in  some  measure  to  draw  author- 
ity from  the  King.  Also  Uncle  Ben  came  over  to  help  us  with 
his  advice  and  presence,  as  well  as  with  a  band  of  stout  ware- 
housemen, whom  he  brought  from  Dulverton.  For  he  had 
never  forgiven  the  old  outrage  put  upon  him;  and  though  it 
had  been  to  his  interest  to  keep  quiet  during  the  last  attack, 
under  Commander  Stickles  —  for  the  sake  of  his  secret  gold 
mine  —  yet  now  he  was  in  a  position  to  give  full  vent  to  his 
feelings.  For  he,  and  his  partners,  when  fully  assured  of  the 
value  of  their  diggings,  had  obtained  from  the  Crown  a  license 
to  adventure  in  search  of  minerals,  by  payment  of  a  heavy  fine 
and  a  yearly  royalty.  Therefore  they  had  now  no  longer  any 
cause  for  secrecy,  neither  for  dread  of  the  outlaws;  having  so 
added  to  their  force  as  to  be  a  match  for  them.  And  although 
Uncle  Ben  was  not  the  man  to  keep  his  miners  idle,  one  hour 
more  than  might  be  helped,  he  promised  that  when  we  had 
fixed]  the  moment  for  an  assault  on  the  valley,  a  score  of  them 
should  come  to  aid  us,  headed  by  Simon  Carfax,  and  armed 
with  the  guns  which  they  always  kept  for  the  protection  of 
their  gold. 


COMPELLED    TO    VOLUNTEER.  261 

Now  whether  it  were  Uncle  Ben,  or  whether  it  Avere  Tom 
Faggus,  or  even  my  own  self  —  for  all  three  of  us  claimed  the 
sole  honor  —  is  more  than  I  think  fair  to  settle,  without  allow- 
ing them  a  voice.  But  at  any  rate,  a  clever  thing  was  devised 
amongst  us;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  the  fairest  thing  to  say 
that  this  bright  stratagem  (wortliy  of  the  great  Duke  himself) 
was  contributed,  little  by  little,  among  the  entire  three  of  us, 
all  having  pipes,  and  sclmapps-and-water,  in  the  chimney- 
corner.  However,  the  world,  which  always  judges  according 
to  reputation,  vowed  that  so  fine  a  stroke  of  war  could  only 
come  from  a  highwayman:  and  so  Tom  Faggus  got  all  the 
honor,  at  less  perhaps  than  a  third  of  the  cost. 

Not  to  attempt  to  rob  him  of  it  —  for  robbers,  more  than  any 
other,  contend  for  rights  of  property  —  let  me  try  to  describe 
this  grand  artifice.  It  was  known  that  the  Doones  were  fond 
of  money,  as  well  as  strong  drink,  and  other  things ;  and  more 
especially  fond  of  gold,  when  they  could  get  it  pure  and  fine. 
Therefore  it  was  agreed,  that  in  this  way  we  should  tempt 
them;  for  we  knew  that  they  looked  with  ridicule  upon  our 
rustic  preparations :  after  repulsing  King's  troopers,  and  the 
militia  of  two  counties,  was  it  likely  that  they  should  yield 
their  fortress  to  a  set  of  ploughboys?  We,  for  our  part,  felt, 
of  course,  the  power  of  this  reasoning,  and  that  where  regular 
troops  had  failed,  half-armed  countrymen  must  fail,  except  by 
superior  judgment  and  harmony  of  action.  Though  perliaps 
the  militia  would  have  sufficed,  if  they  had  only  fought  against 
the  foe,  instead  of  against  each  other.  From  these  things  we 
took  warning:  having  failed  through  over-confidence,  was  it 
not  possible  now  to  make  the  enemy  fail,  through  the  self -same 
cause? 

Hence,  what  we  devised  was  this;  to  delude  from  home  a 
part  of  the  robbers,  and  fall  by  surprise  on  the  other  part.  We 
caused  it  to  be  spread  abroad  that  a  large  heap  of  gold  was  now 
collected  at  the  mine  of  the  Wizard's  Slough.  And  when  this 
rumor  must  have  reached  tliem,  through  women  who  came  to 
and  fro,  as  some  entirely  faithful  to  them  were  allowed  to  do, 
we  sent  Captain  Simon  Carfax,  the  father  of  little  Gwenny, 
to  demand  an  interview  with  the  Counsellor  by  night,  and  as 
it  were  secretly.  Then  lie  was  to  set  forth  a  list  of  imaginary 
grievances  against  the  owners  of  the  mine;  and  to  offer,  partly 
through  resentment,  partly  through  the  hope  of  gain,  to  betray 
into  their  hands,  upon  tlie  Friday  night,  by  far  the  greatest 
weight  of  gold  as  yet  s(;nt  up  for  refining.  He  was  to  hav(! 
one  quarter  part,  and  they  to  take  the  residue.     But  inasmuch 


262  LORNA   DOONE. 

as  the  convoy  across  the  moors,  under  his  command,  would  be 
strong,  and  strongly  armed,  the  Doones  must  be  sure  to  send 
not  less  than  a  score  of  men  if  possible.  He  himself,  at  a  place 
agreed  upon,  and  fit  for  an  ambuscade,  would  call  a  halt,  and 
contrive  in  the  darkness  to  pour  a  little  water  into  the  priming 
of  his  company's  guns. 

It  cost  us  some  trouble,  and  a  great  deal  of  money,  to  bring 
the  sturdy  Cornishman  into  this  deceitful  part;  and  perhaps 
he  never  would  have  consented  but  for  his  obligation  to  me, 
and  the  wrongs  (as  he  said)  of  his  daughter.  However,  as  he 
was  the  man  for  the  task,  both  from  his  coolness  and  courage, 
and  being  known  to  have  charge  of  the  mine,  I  pressed  him, 
until  he  undertook  to  tell  all  the  lies  we  required.  And  right 
well  he  did  it  too,  having  once  made  up  his  mind  to  it;  and 
perceiving  that  his  own  interests  called  for  the  total  destruction 
of  the  robbers. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

A    LONG   ACCOUNT   SETTLED. 

Having  resolved  on  a  night-assault  (as  our  undisciplined 
men,  three-fourths  of  whom  had  never  been  shot  at,  could  not 
fairly  be  expected  to  march  up  to  visible  musket-mouths),  we 
cared  not  much  about  drilling  our  forces,  only  to  teach  them  to 
hold  a  musket,  so  far  as  we  could  supply  that  weapon  to  those 
with  the  cleverest  eyes ;  and  to  give  them  familiarity  with  the 
noise  it  made  in  exploding.  And  we  fixed  upon  Friday  night 
for  our  venture,  because  the  moon  would  be  at  the  full;  and 
our  powder  was  coming  from  Dulverton,  on  the  Friday  after- 
noon. 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  mean  to  expose  himself  to  shooting, 
his  time  of  life  for  risk  of  life  being  now  well  over,  and  the 
residue  too  valuable.  But  his  counsels,  and  his  influence,  and 
above  all  his  warehousemen,  well  practised  in  beating  carpets, 
were  of  true  service  to  us.  His  miners  also  did  great  wonders, 
having  a  grudge  against  the  Doones ;  as  indeed  who  had  not 
for  thirty  miles  round  their  valley? 

It  was  settled  that  the  yeomen,  having  good  horses  under 
them,  should  give  account  with  the  miners'  help  of  as  many 
Doones  as  might  be  despatched  to  plunder  the  pretended  gold. 
And  as  soon  as  we  knew  that  this  party  of  robbers,  be  it  more 


A   LONG  ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  263 

or  less,  was  out  of  hearing  from  tlie  valley,  we  were  to  fall  to, 
ostensibly  at  tlie  Doone-gate  (wliicli  was  impregnable  now), 
but  in  reality  upon  their  rear,  l)y  means  of  my  old  water-slide. 
For  I  had  chosen  twenty  young  fellows,  partly  miners,  and 
partly  warehousemen,  and  sheep-farmers,  and  some  of  other 
vocations,  but  all  to  be  relied  upon  for  spirit  and  power  of 
climbing.  And  with  proper  tools  to  aid  us,  and  myself  to 
lead  the  way,  I  felt  no  doubt  whatever  but  that  we  could  all 
attain  the  crest,  where  first  I  had  met  with  Lorna. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  rejoiced  that  Lorna  was  not  present  now. 
It  must  have  been  irksome  to  her  feelings,  to  have  all  her  kin- 
dred, and  old  associates  (much  as  she  kept  aloof  from  them) 
put  to  deatli  without  ceremony,  or  else  putting  all  of  us  to 
death.  For  all  of  us  were  resolved  this  time  to  have  no  more 
shilly-shallying;  but  to  go  through  with  a  nasty  business,  in 
the  style  of  honest  Englishmen,  when  the  question  comes  to 
"Your  life,  or  mine." 

There  was  hardly  a  man  among  us  who  had  not  suffered 
bitterly,  from  the  miscreants  now  before  us.  One  had  lost  his 
wife  perhaps,  another  had  lost  a  daughter  —  according  to  their 
ages,  another  had  lost  his  favorite  cow;  in  a  word,  there  was 
scarcely  any  one  who  liad  not  to  complain  of  a  hayrick :  and 
what  surprised  me  then,  not  now,  was  that  the  men  least 
injured  made  the  greatest  push  concerning  it.  But  be  the 
wrong  too  great  to  speak  of,  or  too  small  to  swear  about,  from 
poor  Kit  Badcock  to  rich  Master  Huckaback,  there  was  not 
one  but  went,  heart  and  soul,  for  stamping  out  these  firebrands. 

The  moon  was  lifting  well  above  the  shoulder  of  the  uplands, 
when  we,  the  chosen  band,  set  forth,  having  tlie  short  cut  along 
the  valleys  to  foot  of  the  Bag  worthy  water;  and  therefore, 
having  allowed  the  rest  an  hour  to  fetch  round  the  moors  and 
hills,  we  were  not  to  begin  our  climbing  until  we  heard  a 
musket  fired  from  the  heights,  on  the  left  hand  side,  where 
John  Fry  himself  was  stationed,  upon  his  own  and  his  wife's 
request,  to  keep  him  out  of  combat.  And  that  was  the  place 
where  I  had  been  used  to  sit,  and  to  watch  for  Lorna.  And 
Jolm  Fry  was  to  fire  his  gun,  with  a  l)all  of  wool  inside  it,  so 
soon  as  he  heard  the  hurly-burly  at  the  Doone-gate  beginning; 
which  we,  by  reason  of  waterfall,  could  not  hear,  down  in  the 
meadows  there. 

We  waited  a  very  long  time,  with  the  moon  marching  up 
heaven  steadfastly,  and  the  wliite  fog  trembling  in  chords  and 
quavers,  like  a  silver  liarj)  of  tli(^  meadows.  And  then  tln^ 
moon   drew  uj)  the  fogs,  and  scarfed  herself  in  wliite  with 


264  LORNA   DOONE. 

them;  and  so  being  proud,  gleamed  upon  the  water,  like  a 
bride  at  her  looking-glass ;  and  yet  there  was  no  sound  of  either 
John  Fry,  or  his  blunderbuss. 

I  began  to  think  that  the  worthy  John,  being  out  of  all 
danger,  and  having  brought  a  counterpane  (according  to  his 
wife's  directions,  because  one  of  the  children  had  a  cold), 
must  veritably  have  gone  to  sleep ;  leaving  other  people  to  kill, 
or  be  killed,  as  might  be  the  will  of  God;  so  that  he  were 
comfortable.  But  herein  I  did  wrong  to  John,  and  am  ready 
to  acknowledge  it :  for  suddenly  the  most  awful  noise  that  any- 
thing short  of  thunder  could  make,  came  down  among  the 
rocks,  and  went  and  hung  upon  the  corners. 

"  The  signal,  my  lads ! "  I  cried,  leaping  up,  and  rubbing 
my  eyes;  for  even  now,  while  condemning  John  unjustly,  I 
was  giving  him  right  to  be  hard  upon  me.  "  Now  hold  on  by 
the  rope,  and  lay  your  quarter-staffs  across,  my  lads;  and 
keep  your  guns  pointing  to  heaven,  lest  haply  we  shoot  one 
another." 

"  Us  shan't  never  shutt  one  anoother,  wi'  our  goons  at  that 
mark,  I  reckon,"  said  an  oldish  chap,  but  as  tough  as  leather, 
and  esteemed  a  wit  for  his  dryness. 

"You  come  next  to  me,  old  Ike;  you  be  enough  to  dry  up 
the  waters :  now,  remember,  all  lean  well  forward.  If  any 
man  throws  his  weight  back,  down  he  goes ;  and  perhaps  he 
may  never  get  up  again;  and  most  likely  he  will  shoot  him- 
self." 

I  was  still  more  afraid  of  their  shooting  me ;  for  my  chief 
alarm  in  this  steep  ascent  was  neither  of  the  water,  nor  of  the 
rocks,  but  of  the  loaded  guns  we  bore.  If  any  man  slipped, 
off  might  go  his  gun;  and  however  good  his  meaning,  I  being 
first  was  most  likely  to  take  far  more  than  I  fain  would  appre- 
hend. 

For  this  cause,  I  had  debated  with  Uncle  Ben,  and  with 
Cousin  Tom,  as  to  the  expediency  of  our  climbing  with  guns 
unloaded.  But  they,  not  being  in  the  way  themselves, 
assured  me  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  except  through 
uncommon  clumsiness ;  and  that  as  for  charging  our  guns  at 
the  top,  even  veteran  troops  could  scarce  be  trusted  to  per- 
form it  properly  in  the  hurry,  and  the  darkness,  and  the  noise 
of  fighting  before  them. 

However,  thank  God,  though  a  gun  went  off,  no  one  was 
any  the  worse  for  it,  neither  did  the  Doones  notice  it,  in  the 
thick  of  the  firing  in  front  of  them.  For  the  order  to  those 
of  the  sham  attack,  conducted  by  Tom  Faggus,  was  to  make 


A   LONG   ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  265 

the  greatest  possible  noise,  without  exposure  of  themselves; 
until  we,  in  the  rear  had  fallen  to ;  which  John  Fry  was  again 
to  give  signal  of. 

Therefore  we,  of  the  chosen  band,  stole  up  the  meadow 
quietly,  keeping  in  the  blots  of  shade,  and  hollow  of  the 
watercourse.  And  the  earliest  notice  the  Counsellor  had,  or 
any  one  else,  of  our  presence,  was  the  blazing  of  the  log-wood 
house,  where  lived  that  villain  Carver.  It  was  my  especial 
privilege  to  set  this  house  on  fire ;  upon  which  I  had  insisted, 
exclusively,  and  conclusively.  No  other  hand  but  mine  should 
lay  a  brand,  or  strike  steel  on  flint  for  it;  I  had  made  all 
preparations  carefully  for  a  good  blaze.  And  I  must  confess 
that  I  rubbed  my  hands,  with  a  strong  delight  and  comfort, 
when  I  saw  the  home  of  that  man,  who  had  fired  so  many 
houses,  having  its  turn  of  smoke,  and  blaze,  and  of  crackling 
fury. 

We  took  good  care,  however,  to  burn  no  innocent  women,  or 
children,  in  that  most  righteous  destruction.  For  we  brought 
them  all  out  beforehand;  some  were  glad,  and  some  were  sorry; 
according  to  their  dispositions.  For  Carver  had  ten  or  a  dozen 
wives ;  and  perhaps  that  had  something  to  do  with  his  taking 
the  loss  of  Lorna  so  easily.  One  child  I  noticed,  as  I  saved 
him;  a  fair  and  handsome  little  fellow,  beloved  by  Carver 
Doone,  as  much  as  anything  beyond  himself  could  be.  The 
boy  climbed  on  my  back,  and  rode;  and  much  as  I  hated  his 
father,  it  was  not  in  my  heart  to  say,  or  do,  a  thing  to  vex  him. 

Leaving  these  poor  injured  people  to  behold  their  burning 
home,  we  drew  aside,  by  my  directions,  into  the  covert  be- 
neath the  cliff.  But  not  before  we  had  laid  our  brands  to  three 
other  houses,  after  calling  the  women  forth,  and  bidding  them 
go  for  their  husbands,  to  come  and  light  a  hundred  of  us.  In 
the  smoke,  and  rush,  and  fire,  they  believed  that  wo  were  a 
hundred;  and  away  they  ran,  in  consternation,  to  the  battle 
at  the  Doone-gate. 

"  All  Doone-town  is  on  fire,  on  fire !  "  we  heard  them  shriek- 
ing as  they  went :  "  a  hundred  soldiers  are  burning  it,  with  a 
dreadful  great  man  at  the  head  of  them ! " 

Presently,  just  as  I  expected,  back  came  the  Avarriors  of  the 
Doones;  leaving  but  two  or  three  at  the  gate,  and  burning 
with  wrath  to  crush  under  foot  the  presumptuous  clowns  in 
their  valley.  Just  then,  the  waxing  fire  leaped  above  the  red 
crest  of  the  cliffs,  and  danced  on  the  pillars  of  tlio  fonvst,  and 
lapped  like  a  tide  on  the  stones  of  the  slope.  All  the  valley 
flowed  with  light,  and  tlie  limpid  waters  reddened,  and  the 
fair  young  women  shone,  and  the  naked  children  glistened. 


266  LOBNA  BOONE. 

But  the  finest  sight  of  all  was  to  see  those  haughty  men 
striding  down  the  causeway  darkly,  reckless  of  their  end,  but 
resolute  to  have  two  lives  for  every  one.  A  finer  dozen  oi 
young  men  could  not  have  been  found  in  the  world  perhaps, 
nor  a  braver,  nor  a  viler  one. 

Seeing  how  few  there  were  of  them,  I  was  very  loth  to  fire, 
although  I  covered  the  leader,  who  appeared  to  be  dashing 
Charlie;  for  they  were  at  easy  distance  now,  brightly  shown 
by  the  fire-light,  yet  ignorant  where  to  look  for  us.  I  thought 
that  we  might  take  them  prisoners  —  though  what  good  that 
could  be,  God  knows,  as  they  must  have  been  hanged  there- 
after —  any  how  I  was  loth  to  shoot,  or  to  give  the  word  to 
my  followers. 

But  my  followers  waited  for  no  word :  they  saw  a  fair  shot 
at  the  men  they  abhorred,  the  men  who  had  robbed  them  of 
home,  or  of  love;  and  the  chance  was  too  much  for  their 
charity.  At  a  signal  from  old  Ikey,  who  levelled  his  own 
gun  first,  a  dozen  muskets  were  discharged,  and  half  of  the 
Doones  dropped  lifeless,  like  so  many  logs  of  firewood,  or 
chopping-blocks  rolled  over. 

Although  I  had  seen  a  great  battle  before,  and  a  hundred 
times  the  carnage,  this  appeared  to  me  to  be  horrible;  and  I 
was  at  first  inclined  to  fall  upon  our  men,  for  behaving  so. 
But  one  instant  showed  me  that  they  were  right:  for  while 
the  valley  was  filled  with  howling,  and  with  shrieks  of  women, 
and  the  beams  of  blazing  houses  fell,  and  hissed  in  the  bub- 
bling river;  all  the  rest  of  the  Doones  leaped  at  us,  like  so 
many  demons.  They  fired  wildly,  not  seeing  us  well  among 
the  hazel  bushes;  and  then  they  clubbed  their  muskets,  or 
drew  their  swords,  as  might  be;  and  furiously  drove  at  us. 

For  a  moment,  although  we  were  twice  their  number,  we  fell 
back  before  their  valorous  fame,  and  the  power  of  their  onset. 
For  my  part,  admiring  their  courage  greatly,  and  counting  it 
slur  upon  manliness  that  two  should  be  down  upon  one  so,  I 
withheld  my  hand  awhile ;  for  I  cared  to  meet  none  but  Carver ; 
and  he  was  not  among  them.  The  whirl  and  hurry  of  this 
fight,  and  the  hard  blows  raining  down  —  for  now  all  guns 
were  empty  —  took  away  my  power  of  seeing,  or  reasoning, 
upon  any  thing.  Yet  one  thing  I  saw,  which  dwelled  long 
with  me;  and  that  was  Christopher  Badcock  spending  his 
life  to  get  Charlie's. 

How  he  had  found  out,  none  may  tell ;  both  being  dead  so 
long  ago ;  but,  at  any  rate,  he  had  found  out  that  Cliarlie  was 
the  man  who  had  robbed  him  of  his  wife,  and  honor.     It  was 


A   LONG  ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  267 

Carver  Doone  who  took  lier  away,  but  Cliaiiesworth  Doone 
■was  beside  him;  and,  according  to  cast  of  dice,  she  fell  to 
Charlie's  share.  All  this  Kit  Badcock  (who  was  mad,  accord- 
ing to  our  measures)  had  discovered  and  treasured  up ;  and  now 
was  his  revenge-time. 

He  had  come  into  the  conflict  without  a  weapon  of  any  kind ; 
only  begging  me  to  let  him  be  in  the  very  thick  of  it.  For 
him,  he  said,  life  was  no  matter,  after  the  loss  of  his  wife  and 
child ;  but  death  was  matter  to  him,  and  he  meant  to  make  the 
most  of  it.  Such  a  face  I  never  saw,  and  never  hope  to  see 
again,  as  when  poor  Kit  Badcock  spied  Charlie  coming 
towards  us. 

AVe  had  thought  this  man  a  patient  fool,  a  philosopher  of  a 
little  sort,  or  one  who  could  feel  nothing.  And  his  quiet 
manner  of  going  about,  and  the  gentleness  of  his  answers 
(when  some  brutes  asked  him  where  his  wife  was,  and  whether 
his  baby  had  been  well  trussed),  these  had  misled  us  to  think, 
that  the  man  would  turn  the  mild  cheek  to  every  thing.  But 
I,  in  the  loneliness  of  our  barn,  had  listened,  and  had  wept 
with  him. 

Therefore  was  I  not  surprised,  so  much  as  all  the  rest  of  us, 
when,  in  the  foremost  of  red  light,  Kit  went  up  to  Charles- 
worth  Doone,  as  if  to  some  inheritance ;  and  took  his  seisin  of 
right  upon  him,  being  himself  a  powerful  man;  and  begged  a 
word  aside  with  him.  What  they  said  aside,  1  know  not:  all 
I  know  is  that  without  weapon,  each  man  killed  the  other. 
And  Margery  Badcock  came,  and  wept,  and  hung  upon  her 
dead  husband;  and  died  that  summer,  of  heart-disease. 

Now  for  these,  and  other  .things  (whereof  I  could  tell  a  thou- 
sand) was  the  reckoning  come  that  night;  and  not  a  line  we 
missed  of  it;  soon  as  our  bad  blood  was  up.  I  like  not  to  tell 
of  slaughter,  though  it  might  be  of  wolves,  and  tigers:  and 
that  was  a  night  of  fire,  and  slaughter,  and  of  very  long- 
harbored  revenge.  Enough  that  ere  the  day-light  broke,  upon 
that  wan  March  morning,  the  only  Doones  still  left  alive  were 
the  Counsellor,  and  Carver.  And  of  all  the  dwellings  of  the 
Doones  (inhabited  with  luxury,  and  luscious  taste,  and  licen- 
tiousness) not  even  one  was  left,  but  all  made  potash  in  the 
river. 

This  may  seem  a  violent  and  unholy  revenge  upon  them. 
And  T  (wlio  led  the  heart  of  it)  have  in  these  my  latter  years 
douljtcd  iiow  I  shall  b(^  judged,  not  of  men  —  for  God  only 
knows  the  errors  of  man's  judgments  —  but  by  that  great  God 
Himself,  the  front  of  whose  forehead  is  mercy. 


268  LOENA   DOONE. 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 

THE  COUNSELLOR,  AND  THE  CARVER. 

From  that  great  confusion  —  for  nothing  can  be  broken  up, 
whether  lawful  or  unlawful,  without  a  vast  amount  of  dust, 
and  many  people  grumbling,  and  mourning  for  the  good  old 
times,  when  all  the  world  was  happiness,  and  every  man  a  gen- 
tleman, and  the  sun  himself  far  brighter  than  since  the  brassy 
idol  upon  which  he  shone  was  broken  —  from  all  this  loss  of 
ancient  landmarks  (as  unrobbed  men  began  to  call  our  clear- 
ance of  those  murderers)  we  returned  on  the  following  day, 
almost  as  full  of  anxiety,  as  we  were  of  triumph.  In  the  first 
place,  what  could  we  frugally  do  with  all  these  women  and 
children,  throAvn  on  our  hands,  as  one  might  say,  with  none 
to  protect  and  care  for  them?  Again,  how  should  we  answer 
to  the  Justices  of  the  peace,  or  perhaps  even  to  Lord  Jeffreys, 
for  having,  without  even  a  warrant,  taken  the  law  into  ou.r 
own  hands,  and  abated  our  nuisance  so  forcibly?  And  then, 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  spoil,  which  was  of  great  value ; 
though  the  diamond  necklace  came  not  to  public  light?  For 
we  saw  a  mighty  host  of  claimants  already  leaping  up  for 
booty.  Every  man,  who  had  ever  been  robbed,  expected  usury 
on  his  loss;  the  lords  of  the  manors  demanded  the  whole; 
and  so  did  the  King's  Commissioner  of  Revenue  atPorlock; 
and  so  did  the  men  who  had  fought  our  battle;  while  even  the 
parsons,  both  Bowden  and  Powell,  and  another  who  had  no 
parish  in  it,  threatened  us  with  the  just  wrath  of  the  Church, 
unless  each  had  tithes  of  the  whole  of  it. 

ISToAv  this  was  not  as  it  ought  to  be ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  by 
burning  the  nest  of  robbers,  we  had  but  hatched  their  eggs : 
until  being  made  sole  guardian  of  the  captured  treasure  (by 
reason  of  my  known  honesty)  I  hit  upon  a  plan,  which  gave 
very  little  satisfaction;  yet  carried  this  advantage,  that  the 
grumblers  argued  against  one  another,  and  for  the  most  part 
came  to  blows ;  which  renewed  their  good-will  to  me,  as  being 
abused  by  the  adversary. 

And  my  plan  was  no  more  than  this  —  not  to  pay  a  farthing 
to  lord  of  manor,  parson,  or  even  King's  Commissioner,  but 
after  making  good  some  of  the  recent  and  proven  losses  — 
where  the  men  could  not  afford  to  lose  —  to  pay  the  residue 
(which  might  be  worth  some  fifty  thousand  pounds)  into  the 


THE  COUNSELLOE,   AND   THE  CARVER.  269 

Exchequer  at  Westminster,  and  then  let  all  the  claimants  file 
what  bills  they  pleased  in  Chancery. 

Now  this  was  a  very  noble  device;  for  the  mere  name  of 
Chancery,  and  the  high  repute  of  the  fees  therein,  and  the  low 
repute  of  the  lawyers,  and  the  comfortable  knowledge  that  the 
woolsack  itself  is  the  golden  fleece,  absorbing  gold  for  ever,  if 
the  standard  be  but  pure ;  consideration  of  these  things  staved 
oif  at  once  the  lords  of  the  manors,  and  all  the  little  farmers, 
and  even  those  whom  most  I  feared;  videlicet,  the  parsons. 
And  the  King's  Commissioner  was  compelled  to  profess  him- 
self contented,  although  of  all  he  was  most  aggrieved;  for 
his  pickings  would  have  been  goodly. 

Moreover,  by  this  plan  I  made  —  although  I  never  thought 
of  that  —  a  mighty  friend,  worth  all  the  enemies  whom  the 
loss  of  money  moved.  The  first  man  now  in  the  kingdom  (by 
virtue  perhaps  of  energy,  rather  than  of  excellence)  was  the 
great  Lord  Jeffreys,  appointed  the  head  of  the  Equity,  as  well 
as  of  the  larger  law,  for  his  kindness  in  hanging  five  hun- 
dred people,  without  the  mere  grief  of  trial.  Nine  out  of  ten 
of  these  people  were  innocent,  it  was  true;  but  that  proved 
the  merit  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  so  much  the  greater  for 
hanging  them,  as  showing  what  might  be  expected  of  him, 
when  he  truly  got  hold  of  a  guilty  man.  Now  the  King  had 
seen  the  force  of  this  argument;  and  not  being  without  grati- 
tude for  a  high-seasoned  dish  of  cruelty,  had  promoted  the 
only  man  in  England,  combining  the  gifts  both  of  butcher 
and  cook. 

Nevertheless,  I  do  beg  you  all  to  believe  of  me  —  and  I 
think  that,  after  following  me  so  long,  you  must  believe  it  — 
that  I  did  not  even  know  at  the  time  of  Lord  Jelfreys'  high 
promotion.  Not  that  my  knowledge  of  this  would  have  led 
me  to  act  otherwise  in  the  matter ;  for  my  object  was  to  pay 
into  an  office,  and  not  to  any  official;  neither  if  I  had  known 
the  fact,  could  I  have  seen  its  bearing  upon  the  receipt  of  my 
money.  For  the  King's  Exchequer  is,  meseemeth  of  the  Com- 
mon Law;  while  Chancery  is  of  Equity,  and  well  named  for 
its  many  chances.  But  the  true  result  of  the  thing  was  this 
—  Lord  Jeffreys  being  now  head  of  tlie  law,  and  almost  liead 
of  the  kingdom,  got  possession  of  that  money,  and  was  kindly 
pleased  with  it. 

And  tliis  met  our  second  difficulty;  for  the  law  having  won 
and  lauglied  over  the  s])oil,  must  liave  injured  its  own  title  by 
inijjugnirig  our  legality. 

Next,  with  regard  to  tlie  women  and  children,  we  were  long 


270  LOENA  BOONE. 

in  a  state  of  perplexity.  We  did  our  very  best  at  the  farm, 
and  so  did  many  others,  to  provide  for  them,  until  they  should 
manage  about  their  own  siibsistence.  And  after  a  while,  this 
trouble  went,  as  nearly  all  troubles  go  with  time.  Some  of 
the  women  were  taken  back  by  their  parents,  or  their  hus- 
bands, or  it  may  be  their  old  sweethearts;  and  those  who 
failed  of  this,  went  forth,  some  uj)on  their  own  account  to 
the  New  World  plantations,  where  the  fairer  sex  is  valuable ; 
and  some  to  English  cities ;  and  the  plainer  ones  to  field-work. 
And  most  of  the  children  went  with  their  mothers,  or  were 
bound  apprentices ;  only  Carver  Doone's  handsome  child  had 
lost  his  mother,  and  stayed  with  me. 

This  boy  went  about  with  me  everywhere.  He  had  taken 
as  much  of  liking  to  me  —  first  shown  in  his  eyes  by  the  fire- 
light—  as  his  father  had  of  hatred;  and  I,  perceiving  his 
noble  courage,  scorn  of  lies,  and  high  spirit,  became  almost  as 
fond  of  Ensie,  as  he  was  of  me.  He  told  us  that  his  name 
was  "Ensie,"  meant  for  "Ensor,"  I  suppose,  from  his  father's 
grandfather,  the  old  Sir  Ensor  Doone.  And  this  boy  ap- 
peared to  be  Carver's  heir,  having  been  born  in  wedlock,  con- 
trary to  the  general  manner  and  custom  of  the  Doones. 

However,  although  I  loved  the  poor  child,  I  could  not  help 
feeling  very  uneasy  about  the  escape  of  his  father,  the  savage 
and  brutal  Carver.  This  man  was  left  to  roam  the  country, 
homeless,  foodless,  and  desperate,  with  his  giant  strength, 
and  great  skill  in  arms,  and  the  whole  world  to  be  revenged 
upon.  For  his  escape  the  miners,  as  I  shall  show,  were  an- 
swerable; but  of  the  Counsellor's  safe  departure  the  burden 
lay  on  myself  alone.  And,  inasmuch  as  there  are  people  who 
consider  themselves  ill-used,  unless  one  tells  them  every 
thing,  straightened  though  I  am  for  space,  I  will  glance  at 
this  transaction. 

After  the  desperate  charge  of  young  Doones  had  been  met 
by  us,  and  broken,  and  just  as  poor  Kit  Badcock  died  in  the 
arms  of  the  dead  Charlie,  I  happened  to  descry  a  patch  of 
white  on  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  like  the  head  of  a  sheep 
after  washing-day.  Observing,  with  some  curiosity,  how 
carefully  this  white  thing  moved,  along  the  bars  of  darkness 
betwixt  the  panels  of  fire-light,  I  ran  up  to  intercept  it, 
before  it  reached  the  little  postern  wliich  we  used  to  call 
Gwenny's  door.  Perceiving  me,  the  white  thing  stopped,  and 
was  for  making  back  again;  but  I  ran  up  at  full  speed;  and 
lo,  it  was  the  flowing  silvery  hair  of  that  sage  the  Counsellor, 
who  was  sciittling  away  upon  all  fours;  but  now  rose,  and 
confronted  me. 


THE  COUNSELLOR,   AND    THE  CARVER.  271 

"John,"  he  said,  "Sir  John,  you  will  not  play  falsely  with 
your  ancient  friend,  among  these  violent  fellows.  I  look  to 
you  to  protect  me,  John." 

"Honored  sir,  you  are  right,"  I  replied;  "but  surely  that 
posture  was  unworthy  of  yourself,  and  your  many  resources. 
It  is  my  intention  to  let  you  go  free." 

"  I  knew  it.  I  could  have  sworn  to  it.  You  are  a  noble 
fellow,  John ;  I  said  so,  from  the  very  first ;  you  are  a  noble 
fellow,  and  an  ornament  to  any  rank." 

"But  upon  two  conditions,"  I  added,  gently  taking  him  by 
the  arm;  for  instead  of  displaying  any  desire  for  commune 
with  my  nobility,  he  was  edging  away  towards  the  postern : 
"  the  first  is,  that  you  tell  me  truly  (for  now  it  can  matter  to 
none  of  you)  who  it  was  that  slew  my  father." 

"I  will  tell  you,  truly  and  frankly,  John;  however  painful 
to  me  to  confess  it.     It  was  my  son,  Carver." 

"I  thought  as  much,  or  I  felt  as  much,  all  along,"  I  an- 
swered; "but  the  fault  was  none  of  yours,  sir;  for  you  were 
not  even  present." 

"  If  I  had  been  there,  it  would  not  have  happened.  I  am 
always  opposed  to  violence.  Therefore,  let  me  haste  away: 
this  scene  is  against  my  nature." 

"You  shall  go  directly.  Sir  Counsellor,  after  meeting  my 
other  condition ;  which  is,  that  you  place  in  my  hands  Lady 
Lorna's  diamond  necklace." 

"Ah,  how  often  I  have  wished,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  "  that  it  might  yet  be  in  my  power,  to  ease  my 
mind  in  that  respect,  and  to  do  a  thoroughly  good  deed,  by 
lawful  restitution." 

"  Tlieu  try  to  have  it  in  your  power,  sir.  Surely,  with  my 
encouragement,  you  might  summon  resolution." 

"  Alas,  John,  the  resolution  has  been  ready  long  ago.  But 
the  thing  is  not  in  my  possession.  Carver,  my  son,  who  slew 
your  father,  upon  him  you  will  find  the  necklace.  Wliat  are 
jewels  to  me,  young  man,  at  my  time  of  life?  Baubles  and 
trash,  —  I  detest  them,  from  the  sins  they  have  led  me  to 
answer  for.  When  you  come  to  my  age,  good  Sir  Jolin,  you 
will  scorn  all  jewels,  and  care  only  for  a  pure  and  bright  con- 
science. Ah!  ah!  Let  me  go.  I  have  made  my  peace  with 
God." 

He  looked  so  hoary,  and  so  silvery,  and  serene  in  the  moon- 
light, that  verily  I  must  have  believed  him,  if  he  liad  not 
drawn  in  his  breast.  ]>ut  I  haj)i)ened  to  have  noticed,  that 
when  an  honest  man  gives  vent  to  noble  and  great  sentiments, 


272  LORNA   BOONE. 

he  spreads  his  breast,  and  throws  it  out,  as  if  his  heart  were 
swelling;  whereas  I  had  seen  this  old  gentleman  draw  his 
breast  in,  more  than  once,  as  if  it  happened  to  contain  better 
goods  than  sentiment. 

"Will  you  applaud  me,  kind  sir,"  I  said,  keeping  him  very 
tight,  all  the  while,  "if  I  place  it  in  your  power,  to  ratify 
your  peace  with  God?  The  pledge  is  upon  your  heart,  no 
doubt;  for  there  it  lies  at  this  moment." 

With  these  words,  and  some  apology  for  having  recourse  to 
strong  measures,  I  thrust  my  hand  inside  his  waistcoat,  and 
drew  forth  Lorna's  necklace,  purely  sparkling  in  the  moon- 
light, like  the  dancing  of  new  stars.  The  old  man  made  a 
stab  at  me,  with  a  knife  which  I  had  not  espied;  but  the  vi- 
cious onset  failed;  and  then  he  knelt,  and  clasped  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  John,  my  son,  rob  me  not,  in  that 
manner.  They  belong  to  me;  and  I  love  them  so;  I  would 
give  almost  my  life  for  them.  There  is  one  jewel  there  I  can 
look  at  for  hours,  and  see  all  the  lights  of  heaven  in  it ;  which 
I  never  shall  see  elsewhere.  All  my  wretched,  wicked  life  — 
oh,  John,  I  am  a  sad  hypocrite  —  but  give  me  back  my  jewels. 
Or  else  kill  me  here :  I  am  a  babe  in  your  hands :  but  I  must 
have  back  my  jewels." 

As  his  beautiful  white  hair  fell  away  from  his  noble  fore- 
head, like  a  silver  wreath  of  glory,  and  his  powerful  face,  for 
once,  was  moved  with  real  emotion,  I  was  so  amazed  and  over- 
come by  the  grand  contradictions  of  nature,  that  verily  I  was 
on  the  point  of  giving  him  back  the  necklace.  But  honesty, 
which  is  said  to  be  the  first  instinct  of  all  Ridds  (though  I 
myself  never  found  it  so),  happened  here  to  occur  to  me;  and 
so  I  said,  without  more  haste  than  might  be  expected, — 

"  Sir  Counsellor,  I  cannot  give  you  what  does  not  belong  to 
me.  But  if  you  will  show  me  that  particular  diamond,  which 
is  heaven  to  you,  I  will  take  upon  myself  the  risk,  and  the 
folly,  of  cutting  it  out  for  you.  And  with  that  you  must  go 
contented:  and  I  beseech  you  not  to  starve,  with  that  jewel 
upon  your  lips." 

Seeing  no  hope  of  better  terms,  he  showed  me  his  pet  love 
of  a  jewel ;  and  I  thought  of  what  Lorna  was  to  me,  as  I  cut 
it  out  (with  the  hinge  of  my  knife  severing  the  snakes  of  gold) 
and  placed  it  in  his  careful  hand.  Another  moment,  and  he 
was  gone,  and  away  through  Gwenny's  postern;  and  God 
knows  what  became  of  him. 

Now  as  to  Carver,  the  thing  was  this  —  so  far  as  I  could 
ascertain  from  the  valiant  miners,  no  two  of  whom  told  the 


THE  COUNSELLOR,   AND   THE  CyLRVER.  273 

same  story,  any  more  than  one  of  them  told  it  twice.  The 
band  of  Doones,  which  sallied  forth  for  the  robbery  of  the 
pretended  convoy,  was  met  by  Simon  Carfax,  according  to 
arrangement,  at  the  ruined  house  called  the  "Warren,"  in 
that  part  of  Bagworthy  Forest  where  the  river  Exe  (as  yet  a 
very  small  stream)  runs  through  it.  The  "Warren,"  as  all  our 
people  knoAv,  had  belonged  to  a  fine  old  gentleman,  whom 
every  one  called  "The  Squire,"  who  had  retreated  from  active 
life,  to  pass  the  rest  of  his  days  in  fishing,  and  shooting,  and 
helping  his  neighbors.  For  he  was  a  man  of  some  substance; 
and  no  poor  man  ever  left  the  "Warren,"  without  a  bag  of  good 
victuals,  and  a  few  shillings  put  in  his  pocket.  However, 
this  poor  Squire  never  made  a  greater  mistake,  than  in  hoping 
to  end  his  life  peacefully,  upon  the  banks  of  a  trout-stream, 
and  in  the  green  forest  of  Bagworthy.  For  as  he  came  home 
from  the  brook  at  dusk,  with  his  fly-rod  over  his  shoulder,  the 
Doones  fell  upon  him,  and  murdered  him,  and  then  sacked 
his  house,  and  burned  it. 

Now  this  had  made  honest  people  timid  about  going  up  past 
the  "Warren"  at  night;  for,  of  course,  it  was  said  that  the  old 
Squire  "walked,"  upon  certain  nights  of  the  moon,  in  and  out 
the  trunks  of  trees,  on  the  green  path  from  the  river.  On  his 
shoulder  he  bore  a  fishing-rod,  and  his  book  of  trout-flies  in 
one  hand,  and  on  his  back  a  wicker-creel;  and  now  and  then 
he  would  burst  out  laughing,  to  think  of  the  way  he  was  caught 
by  the  Doones. 

And  now  that  one  turns  to  consider  it,  this  seems  a  strangely 
righteous  thing,  that  the  scene  of  one  of  the  greatest  crimes, 
even  by  Doones  committed,  should,  after  twenty  years,  become 
the  scene  of  vengeance  falling  (like  hail  from  heaven)  upon 
them.  For  (although  the  "  Warren "  lies  well  away  to  the 
westward  of  the  mine;  and  the  gold,  under  escort  to  Bristowe, 
or  London,  would  have  gone  in  the  other  direction)  Captain 
Carfax,  finding  this  place  best  suited  for  working  of  his  design, 
had  persuaded  the  Doones,  that  for  reasons  of  Government,  the 
ore  must  go  first  to  Barnstaple  for  inspection,  or  something  of 
tliat  sort.  And  as  every  one  knows  that  our  Government  sends 
all  things  westward  when  eastward  bound,  tliis  liad  won  the 
more  faith  for  Simon,  as  being  according  to  nature. 

Now  Simon,  having  met  these  flowers  of  the  flock  of  villainy, 
where  the  rising  inoonliglit  flowed  tlirough  tlie  weir-work  of 
th(;  wood,  begged  tli(!m  to  dismount,  and  led  them,  witli  an  air 
of  mystery,  into  the  Squire's  ruined  hall,  l)lack  with  fire,  and 
green  with  weeds. 

VOL.  II.  —  18 


274  LORNA  DOONE. 

"Captain,  I  have  found  a  thing,"  he  said  to  Carver  Doone 
himself,  "  which  may  help  to  pass  the  hour,  ere  the  lump  of 
gold  comes  by.  The  smugglers  are  a  noble  race ;  but  a  miner's 
eyes  are  a  match  for  them.  There  lies  a  puncheon  of  rare 
spirit,  with  the  Dutchman's  brand  upon  it,  hidden  behind  the 
broken  hearth.  Set  a  man  to  watch  outside;  and  let  us  see 
what  this  be  like." 

With  one  accord  they  agreed  to  this,  and  Carver  pledged 
Master  Carfax,  and  all  the  Doones  grew  merry.  But  Simon 
being  bound,  as  he  said,  to  see  to  their  strict  sobriety,  drew  a 
bucket  of  water  from  the  well,  into  whicli  they  had  thrown  the 
dead  owner,  and  begged  them  to  mingle  it  with  their  drink; 
which  some  of  them  did,  and  some  refused. 

But  the  water  from  that  well  was  poured,  while  they  were 
carousing,  into  the  priming-pan  of  every  gun  of  theirs ;  even 
as  Simon  had  promised  to  do  with  the  guns  of  the  men  they 
were  come  to  kill.  Then  just  as  the  giant  Carver  arose,  with  a 
glass  of  pure  hollands  in  his  hand,  and  by  the  light  of  the 
torch  they  had  struck,  proposed  the  good  health  of  the  Squire's 
ghost  —  in  the  broken  doorway  stood  a  press  of  men,  with 
pointed  muskets,  covering  every  drunken  Doone.  How  it 
fared  upon  that  I  know  not,  having  none  to  tell  me;  for  each 
man  wrought,  neither  thought  of  telling,  nor  whether  he  might 
be  alive  to  tell.  The  Doones  rushed  to  their  guns  at  once,  and 
pointed  them,  and  pulled  at  them;  but  the  Squire's  well  had 
drowned  their  fire:  and  then  they  knew  that  they  were  be- 
trayed; but  resolved  to  fight  like  men  for  it.  Upon  fighting  I 
can  never  dwell ;  it  breeds  such  savage  delight  in  me ;  of  which 
I  would  fain  have  less.  Enough  that  all  the  Doones  fought 
bravely ;  and  like  men  (though  bad  ones)  died  in  the  hall  of 
the  man  they  had  murdered.  And  with  them  died  poor  young 
De  Whichehalse,  who,  in  spite  of  all  his  good  father's  prayers, 
had  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  robbers.  Carver  Doone  alone 
escaped.  Partly  through  his  fearful  strength,  and  his  yet 
more  fearful  face;  but  mainly  perhaps  through  his  perfect 
coolness,  and  his  mode  of  taking  things. 

I  am  happy  to  say,  that  no  more  than  eight  of  the  gallant 
miners  were  killed  in  that  combat,  or  died  of  their  wounds 
afterwards ;  and  adding  to  these  the  eight  we  had  lost  in  our 
assault  on  the  valley  (and  two  of  them  excellent  warehouse- 
men), it  cost  no  more  than  sixteen  lives  to  be  rid  of  nearly 
forty  Doones,  each  of  whom  would  most  likely  have  killed 
three  men,  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two.  Therefore,  as  I  said 
at  the  time,  a  great  work  was  done  very  reasonably ;  here  were 


Carver    Doonk.  —  Vol.   II.  p-  275. 


HOW   TO   GET  OUT  OF  CHANCEET.  275 

nigh  upon  forty  Doones  destroyed  (in  the  valley,  and  up  at  tlie 
"  Warren "),  despite  their  extraordinary  strength,  and  high 
skill  in  gunnery ;  whereas  of  us  ignorant  rustics  there  were 
only  sixteen  to  be  counted  dead  —  though  others  might  be 
lamed,  or  so  —  and  of  those  sixteen,  only  two  had  left  wives, 
and  their  wives  had  no  trouble  to  marry  again. 

Yet,  for  Lorna's  sake,  I  was  vexed  at  the  bold  escape  of 
Carver.  Not  that  I  sought  for  Carver's  life,  any  more  than  I 
did  for  the  Counsellor's;  but  that  for  us  it  was  no  light  thing, 
to  have  a  man  of  such  power,  and  resource,  and  desperation, 
left  at  large  and  furious,  like  a  famished  wolf  round  the  sheep- 
fold.  Yet  greatly  as  I  blamed  the  yeomen,  who  were  posted 
on  their  horses,  just  out  of  shot  from  the  Doone-gate,  for  the 
very  purpose  of  intercepting  those  who  escaped  the  miners,  I 
could  not  get  them  to  admit  that  any  blame  attached  to  them. 

But  lo,  he  had  dashed  through  the  whole  of  them,  with  his 
horse  at  full  gallop ;  and  was  out  of  range,  ere  ever  they  began 
to  think  of  shooting  him.  Then  it  appears  from  what  a  boy 
said  —  for  boys  manage  to  be  everywhere  —  that  Captain  Carver 
rode  through  the  Doone-gate,  and  so  to  the  head  of  the  valley. 
There  he  discovered  all  the  houses,  and  his  own  among  the 
number,  flaming  with  a  handsome  blaze,  and  throwing  a  fine 
light  around,  such  as  he  often  had  revelled  in,  when  of  other 
people's  property.  Now  he  swore  the  deadliest  of  all  oaths, 
and  seeing  himself  to  be  vanquished  (so  far  as  the  luck  of  the 
moment  went),  spurred  his  great  black  horse  away,  and  passed 
into  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER   LXXTII. 

HOW    TO    GET    OUT    OF    CHANCERY. 

Things  at  this  time  so  befell  me,  that  I  cannot  tell  one  half; 
but  am  like  a  boy  who  has  left  his  lesson  (to  the  master's  very 
footfall)  unready,  except  with  false  excuses.  And  as  this 
makes  no  good  work,  so  I  lament  upon  my  lingering,  in  the 
times  when  I  might  have  got  through  a  good  page,  but  went 
astray  after  trifles.  However,  every  man  must  do  according 
to  his  intellect;  and  looking  at  the  easy  manner  of  my  consti- 
tution, I  tliink  that  most  men  will  regard  me  witli  pity,  and 
goodwill,  for  trying;  more  than  with  conteni])t,  and  wnitli,  tor 
having  tried  unwortliily.     Even  as  in  the  wrestling  ring,  what- 


276  LORNA   BOONE. 

ever  man  did  his  very  best,  and  made  an  honest  conflict,  I 
always  laid  him  down  with  softness,  easing  off  his  dusty  fall. 

But  the  thing  which  next  betided  me  was  not  a  fall  of  any 
sort;  but  rather  a  most  glorious  rise  to  the  summit  of  all  for- 
tune. For  in  good  truth  it  was  no  less  than  the  return  of 
Lorna  —  my  Lorna,  my  own  darling ;  in  wonderful  health  and 
spirits,  and  as  glad  as  a  bird  to  get  back  again.  It  would  have 
done  any  one  good  for  a  twelvemonth  to  behold  her  face  and 
doings,  and  her  beaming  eyes  and  smile  (not  to  mention  blushes 
also  at  my  salutation),  when  this  Queen  of  every  heart  ran 
about  our  rooms  again.  She  did  love  this,  and  she  must  see 
that,  and  where  was  her  old  friend  the  cat  ?  All  the  house 
was  full  of  brightness,  as  if  the  sun  had  come  over  the  hill, 
and  Lorna  were  his  looking-glass. 

My  mother  sat  in  an  ancient  chair,  and  wiped  her  cheeks, 
and  gazed  at  her;  and  even  Lizzie's  eyes  must  dance  to  the 
freshness  and  joy  of  her  beauty.  As  for  me,  you  might  call 
me  mad ;  for  I  ran  out,  and  flung  my  best  hat  on  the  barn,  and 
kissed  mother  Fry,  till  she  made  at  me  with  the  clacker  of  the 
churn. 

What  a  quantity  of  things  Lorna  had  to  tell  us !  And  yet 
how  often  we  stopped  her  mouth  —  at  least  mother,  I  mean, 
and  Lizzie  —  and  she  quite  as  often  would  stop  her  own,  run- 
ning up  in  her  joy  to  some  one  of  us !  And  then  there  arose 
the  eating  business  —  which  people  now  call  "refreshment," 
in  these  dandyfied  days  of  our  language  —  for  how  was  it  pos- 
sible that  our  Lorna  could  have  come  all  that  way,  and  to  her 
own  Exmoor,  without  being  terribly  hungry? 

"  Oh,  I  do  love  it  all  so  much, "  said  Lorna,  now  for  the  fiftieth 
time,  and  not  meaning  only  the  victu.als :  "  the  scent  of  the 
gorse  on  the  moors  drove  me  wild,  and  the  primroses  under  the 
hedges.  I  am  sure  I  was  meant  for  a  farmer's  —  I  mean  for 
a  farmhouse  life,  dear  Lizzie  "  —  for  Lizzie  was  looking  saucily 
—  "just  as  you  were  meant  for  a  soldier's  bride,  and  for  writ- 
ing despatches  of  victory.  And  now,  since  you  will  not  ask 
me,  dear  mother,  in  tlie  excellence  of  your  manners,  and  even 
John  has  not  the  impudence,  in  spite  of  all  his  coat  of  arms, —  I 
must  tell  you  a  thing,  which  I  vowed  to  keep  until  to-morrow 
morning;  but  my  resolution  fails  me.  I  am  my  own  mistress; 
what  think  you  of  that,  mother?     I  am  my  own  mistress!  " 

"Then  you  shall  not  be  so  long,"  cried  I;  for  motlier  seemed 
not  to  understand  her,  and  sought  about  for  her  glasses :  "  dar- 
ling, you  shall  be  mistress  of  me;  and  I  will  be  your  master." 

"  A  frank  announcement  of  your  intent,  and  beyond  doubt  a 


HOW   TO   GET  OUT  OF  CHANCERY.  277 

true  one;  but  surely  unusual  at  this  stage,  and  a  little  prema- 
ture, John.  However,  what  must  be,  must  be."  And  with 
tears  springing  out  of  smiles,  she  fell  on  my  breast,  and  cried 
a  bit. 

AVhen  I  came  to  smoke  a  pipe  over  it  (after  the  rest  were 
gone  to  bed),  I  could  hardly  believe  in  my  good  luck.  For 
here  was  I,  without  any  merit  except  of  bodily  power,  and  the 
absence  of  any  falsehood  (which  surely  is  no  commendation), 
so  placed,  that  the  noblest  men  in  England  might  envy  me  and 
be  vexed  with  me.  For  the  noblest  lady  in  all  the  land,  and 
the  purest,  and  the  sweetest,  hung  upon  my  heart,  as  if  there 
was  none  to  equal  it. 

I  dwelled  upon  this  matter,  long  and  very  severely,  while  I 
smoked  a  new  tobacco,  brought  by  my  own  Lorna  for  me,  and 
next  to  herself  most  delicious ;  and  as  the  smoke  curled  away, 
I  thought,  ''  Surely  this  is  too  fine  to  last,  for  a  man  who  never 
deserved  it ! " 

Seeing  no  way  out  of  this,  I  resolved  to  place  my  faith  in 
God;  and  so  went  to  bed,  and  dreamed  of  it.  For  having  no 
presence  of  mind  to  pray  for  anything,  under  the  circumstances, 
I  thought  it  best  to  fall  asleep,  and  trust  myself  to  the  future. 
Yet  ere  I  fell  asleep,  the  roof  above  me  swarmed  with  angels, 
having  Lorna  under  it. 

In  the  morning,  Lorna  was  ready  to  tell  her  story,  and  we 
to  hearken:  and  she  wore  a  dress  of  most  simple  stuff;  and  yet 
perfectly  wonderful,  by  means  of  the  shape  and  her  figure. 
Lizzie  was  wild  with  jealousy,  as  might  be  expected  (though 
never  would  Annie  have  been  so,  but  have  praised  it,  and 
craved  for  the  pattern),  and  mother,  not  understanding  it, 
looked  forth,  to  be  taught  about  it.  For  it  was  strange  to  note 
that  lately  my  dear  mother  had  lost  her  quickness,  and  was 
never  quite  brisk,  unless  the  question  were  aboiit  myself.  She 
had  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble;  and  grief  begins  to  close  on 
peojjle,  as  their  power  of  life  declines.  We  said  that  she  was 
hard  of  hearing;  but  my  opinion  was,  that  seeing  me  inclined 
for  marriage  made  her  think  of  my  father,  and  so  perliaps  a 
little  too  much  to  dwell  uj)on  the  courting  of  thirty  years 
agone.  Anyhow,  she  was  the  very  best  of  mothers;  and  would 
smile  and  command  herself;  and  be  (or  try  to  believe  herself) 
as  happy  as  could  be,  in  tlie  doings  of  the  younger  folk,  and 
her  own  skill  in  detecting  them.  Yet,  with  the  wisdom  of  age, 
renouncing  any  opinion  upon  the  matter;  since  none  could  see 
the  end  of  it. 

But  Lorna,  in  her  bright  young  beauty,  and  her  knowledge 


278  LOBNA   DOONE. 

of  my  heart,  was  not  to  be  checked  by  any  thoughts  of  haply 
coming  evil.  In  the  morning  she  was  up,  even  sooner  than  I 
was,  and  through  all  the  corners  of  the  hens,  remembering 
every  one  of  them.  I  caught  her,  and  saluted  her  with  such 
warmth  (being  now  none  to  look  at  us),  that  she  vowed  she 
would  never  come  out  again ;  and  yet  she  came  the  next  morn- 


ing! 


These  things  ought  not  to  be  chronicled.  Yet  I  am  of  such 
nature,  that  finding  many  parts  of  life  adverse  to  our  wishes, 
I  must  now  and  then  draw  pleasure  from  the  blessed  portions. 
And  what  portion  can  be  more  blessed,  than  with  youth,  and 
health,  and  strength,  to  be  loved  by  a  virtuous  maid,  and  to 
love  her  with  all  one's  heart?  Neither  was  my  pride  dimin- 
ished, when  I  found  what  she  had  done,  only  from  her  love  of 
me. 

Earl  Brandir's  ancient  steward,  in  whose  charge  she  had 
travelled,  with  a  proper  escort,  looked  upon  her  as  a  lovely 
maniac;  and  the  mixture  of  pity,  and  admiration,  wherewith 
he  regarded  her  was  a  strange  thing  to  observe;  especially 
after  he  had  seen  our  simple  house  and  manners.  On  the 
other  hand,  Lorna  considered  him  a  worthy  but  foolish  old 
gentleman ;  to  whom  true  happiness  meant  no  more  than  money 
and  high  position. 

These  two  last  she  had  been  ready  to  abandon  wholly,  and 
had  in  part  escaped  from  them,  as  the  enemies  of  her  happi- 
ness. And  she  took  advantage  of  the  times  in  a  truly  clever 
manner.  For  that  happened  to  be  a  time  —  as  indeed  all  times 
hitherto  (so  far  as  my  knowledge  extends),  have,  somehow  or 
other,  happened  to  be  —  when  every  body  was  only  too  glad 
to  take  money  for  doing  any  thing.  And  the  greatest  money- 
taker  in  the  kingdom  (next  to  the  King  and  Queen,  of  course, 
who  had  due  pre-eminence,  and  had  taught  the  maids  of  honor) 
was  generally  acknowledged  to  be  the  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Jeffreys. 

Upon  his  return  from  the  Bloody  Assizes,  with  triumph  and 
great  glory,  after  hanging  every  man  who  was  too  poor  to  help 
it,  he  pleased  His  Gracious  Majesty  so  purely  with  the  descrip- 
tion of  their  delightful  agonies,  that  the  King  exclaimed,  "  This 
man  alone  is  worthy  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  law."  Accord- 
ingly in  his  hand  was  placed  the  Great  Seal  of  England. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Lorna's  destiny  hung  upon  Lord 
Jeffreys;  for  at  this  time  Earl  Brandir  died,  being  taken  with 
gout  in  the  heart,  soon  after  I  left  London.  Lorna  was  very 
sorry  for  him ;  but  as  he  had  never  been  able  to  hear  one  tone 


HOW  TO   GET  OUT  OF  CHANCERY.  279 

of  her  sweet  silvery  voice,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  she 
wept  without  consohition.  She  grieved  for  him,  as  we  ought 
to  grieve  for  any  good  man  going;  and  yet  with  a  comforting 
sense  of  the  benefit  which  the  blessed  exchange  must  bring  to 
him. 

Now  the  Lady  Lorna  Dugal  appeared,  to  Lord  Chancellor 
Jeffreys,  so  exceeding  wealthy  a  Avard,  that  the  lock  would  pay 
for  turning.  Therefore  he  came,  of  his  own  accord,  to  visit 
her,  and  to  treat  with  her;  having  heard  (for  the  man  was  as 
big  a  gossip  as  never  cared  for  any  body,  yet  loved  to  know  all 
about  every  body)  that  this  wealthy  and  beautiful  maiden 
would  not  listen  to  any  young  lord,  having  pledged  her  faith 
to  the  plain  John  Ridd. 

Thereupon,  our  Lorna  managed  so  to  hold  out  golden  hopes  to 
the  Lord  High  Chancellor,  that  he,  being  not  more  than  three 
parts  drunk,  saw  his  way  to  a  heap  of  money.  And  there  and 
then  (for  he  was  not  the  man  to  dally  long  about  any  thing) 
upon  surety  of  a  certain  round  sum  —  the  amount  of  which  I 
will  not  mention,  because  of  his  kindness  towards  me  —  he 
gave  to  his  fair  ward  permission,  under  sign  and  seal,  to  marry 
that  loyal  knight,  John  Ridd ;  upon  condition  only  that  the 
King's  consent  should  be  obtained. 

His  Majesty,  well-disposed  towards  me  for  my  previous 
service,  and  regarding  me  as  a  good  Catholic,  being  moved 
moreover  by  the  Queen,  who  desired  to  please  Lorna,  consented, 
without  much  hesitation,  upon  the  understanding  that  Lorna, 
when  she  became  of  full  age,  and  the  mistress  of  her  property 
(which  was  still  under  guardianship),  should  pay  a  heavy  fine 
to  the  Crown,  and  devote  a  fixed  portion  of  her  estate  to  the 
promotion  of  the  holy  Catholic  faith,  in  a  manner  to  be  dictated 
by  the  King  himself.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  King  James  was 
driven  out  of  his  kingdom  before  this  arrangement  could  take 
effect,  and  another  king  succeeded,  who  desired  not  the  promo- 
tion of  the  Catholic  religion,  neither  hankered  after  subsidies 
(whetlier  French  or  English),  that  agreement  was  pronounced 
invalid,  improper,  and  contemptible.  However,  there  was 
no  getting  back  the  money  once  paid  to  Lord  Chancellor 
Jeffreys. 

But  what  thought  we  of  money,  at  this  present  moment; 
or  of  position,  or  any  thing  else,  except  indeed  one  another? 
Lorna  told  me,  with  the  sweetest  smile,  that  if  I  were  mind(Ml 
to  take  her  at  all,  I  must  take  her  without  any  thing;  inasuuuih 
as  she  meant,  upon  coming  of  age,  to  make  over  the  residue  of 
In^r  estate  to  the  next  of  kin,  as  being  unfit  for  a  farmer's 


280  LORNA   BOONE. 

wife.  And  I  replied,  with  the  greatest  warmth,  and  a  readiness 
to  worship  her,  that  this  was  exactly  what  I  longed  for,  but 
had  never  dared  to  propose  it.  But  dear  mother  looked  most 
exceeding  grave;  and  said  that  to  be  sure  her  opinion  could 
not  be  expected  to  count  for  much,  but  she  really  hoped  that 
in  three  years'  time,  we  should  both  be  a  little  wiser,  and  have 
more  regard  for  our  interests,  and  perhaps  those  of  others  by 
that  time;  and  Master  Snowe  having  daughters  only,  and 
nobody  coming  to  marry  them,  if  any  thing  happened  to  the 
good  old  man  —  and  who  could  tell  in  three  years'  time,  what 
might  happen  to  all,  or  any  of  us?  —  why,  perhaps  his  farm 
would  be  for  sale,  and  perhaps  Lady  Lorna's  estates  in  Scot- 
land would  fetch  enough  money  to  buy  it,  and  so  throw  the  two 
farms  into  one,  and  save  all  the  trouble  about  the  brook,  as  my 
poor  father  had  longed  to  do  many  and  many  a  time,  but  not 
having  a  title  could  not  do  all  quite  as  he  wanted.  And  then 
if  we  young  people  grew  tired  of  the  old  mother,  as  seemed 
only  too  likely,  and  was  according  to  nature,  why  we  could 
send  her  over  there,  and  Lizzie  to  keep  her  company. 

When  mother  had  finished,  and  wiped  her  eyes,  Lorna,  who 
had  been  blushing  rosily  at  some  portions  of  this  great  speech, 
flung  her  fair  arms  around  mother's  neck,  and  kissed  her  very 
heartily,  and  scolded  her  (as  she  well  deserved)  for  her  want 
of  confidence  in  us.  My  mother  replied,  that  if  any  body 
could  deserve  her  John,  it  was  Lorna ;  but  that  she  could  not 
hold  with  the  rashness  of  giving  up  money  so  easily;  while 
her  next  of  kin  would  be  John  himself,  and  who  could  tell 
what  others,  by  the  time  she  was  one-and-twenty? 

Hereupon,  I  felt  that  after  all  my  mother  had  common  sense 
on  her  side;  for  if  Master  Snowe's  farm  should  be  for  sale,  it 
would  be  far  more  to  the  purpose  than  my  coat  of  arms,  to  get 
it;  for  there  was  a  different  j)asture  there,  just  suited  for 
change  of  diet  to  our  sheep,  as  well  as  large  cattle.  And 
beside  this,  even  with  all  Annie's  skill  (and  of  course  yet 
more  now  she  was  gone),  their  butter  would  always  command 
in  the  market  from  one  to  three  farthings  a  pound  more  than 
we  could  get  for  ours.  And  few  things  vexed  us  more  than 
this.  Wliereas,  if  we  got  possession  of  the  farm,  we  might, 
without  breach  of  the  market-laws,  or  any  harm  done  to  any 
one  (the  price  being  but  a  prejudice),  sell  all  our  butter  as 
Snowe  butter,  and  do  good  to  all  our  customers. 

Thinking  thus,  yet  remembering  that  Farmer  Nicholas  might 
hold  out  for  another  score  of  years  —  as  I  heartily  hoped  he 
might  —  or  that  one,  if  not  all,  of  his  comely  daughters  might 


BLOOD    UPON    THE  ALTAR.  281 

marry  a  good  young  farmer  (or  farmers,  if  the  case  were  so)  — 
or  that,  even  without  that,  the  farm  might  never  be  put  up  for 
sale ;  I  begged  my  Lorua  to  do  as  she  liked ;  or  rather  to  wait 
and  think  of  it;  for  as  yet  she  could  do  nothing. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 

BLOOD  UPON  THE  ALTAR. 

Everything  was  settled  smoothly,  and  without  any  fear  or 
fuss,  that  Lorna  might  find  end  of  troubles,  and  myself  of 
eager  waiting,  with  the  help  of  Parson  Bowden,  and  the  good 
wishes  of  two  counties.  I  could  scarce  believe  my  fortune, 
when  I  looked  upon  her  beauty,  gentleness,  and  sweetness, 
mingled  with  enough  of  humor,  and  warm  woman's  feeling, 
never  to  be  dull  or  tiring;  never  themselves  to  be  weary. 

For  she  might  be  called  a  woman  now;  although  a  very 
young  one,  and  as  full  of  playful  ways,  or  ])erhaps  I  may  say 
ten  times  as  full,  as  if  she  had  known  no  trouble.  To  wit,  the 
spirit  of  bright  childhood,  having  been  so  curbed  and  straitened, 
ere  its  time  was  over,  now  broke  forth,  enriched  and  varied 
with  the  garb  of  conscious  maidenhood.  And  the  sense  of 
steadfast  love,  and  eager  love  enfolding  her,  colored  with  so 
many  tinges  all  her  looks,  and  words,  and  thoughts,  that  to 
me  it  was  the  noblest  vision  even  to  think  aljout  her. 

But  this  was  far  too  bright  to  last,  without  bitter  break,  and 
the  plunging  of  happiness  in  horror,  and  of  passionate  joy  in 
agony.  My  darling,  in  her  softest  moments,  when  she  was 
alone  with  me,  when  the  sjtark  of  defiant  eyes  was  veiled 
beneath  dark  lashes,  and  the  cluiUenge  of  gay  beauty  passed 
into  sweetest  invitation;  at  such  times  of  her  purest  love  and 
warmest  faith  in  me,  a  deep  abiding  fear  would  flutter  in  her 
bounding  heart,  as  of  deadly  fate's  approach.  She  would  eling 
to  me,  and  nestle  to  me,  being  scared  of  coyishness,  and  lay 
one  arm  around  my  neck,  and  ask  if  I  could  do  without  lier. 

Hence,  as  all  emotions  haply,  of  those  who  are  more  to  us 
tlian  ourselves,  find  within  us  stronger  echo,  and  more  perfect 
answer,  so  I  could  not  be  regardless  of  some  hidden  evil;  and 
my  dark  misgivings  deepened  as  tlie  time  drew  nearer.  I  kept 
a  steadfast  watch  on  Lorna,  neglecting  a  field  of  beans  entirely, 
as  well  as  a  litter  of  young  pigs,  and  a  cow  somewhat  given  to 
jaundice.     And  1  let  Jem  Slocombe  go  to  sleep  in  the  tallat, 


282  LORNA   BOONE. 

all  one  afternoon,  and  Bill  Dadds  draw  off  a  bucket  of  cider, 
without  so  much  as  a  "by  your  leave."  For  these  men  knew 
that  my  knighthood,  and  my  coat  of  arms,  and  (most  of  all) 
my  love,  were  greatly  against  good  farming;  the  sense  of  our 
country  being  —  and  perhaps  it  may  be  sensible  —  that  a  man 
who  sticks  up  to  be  any  thing,  must  allow  himself  to  be 
cheated. 

But  I  never  did  stick  up,  nor  would,  though  all  the  parish 
bade  me;  and  I  whistled  the  same  tunes  to  my  horses,  and 
held  my  plough-tree  just  the  same,  as  if  no  King  nor  Queen, 
had  ever  come  to  spoil  my  tune  or  hand.  For  this  thing, 
nearly  all  the  men  around  our  part  upbraided  me,  but  the 
women  praised  me ;  and  for  the  most  part  these  are  right,  when 
themselves  are  not  concerned. 

However  humble  I  might  be,  no  one,  knowing  any  thing  of 
our  part  of  the  country,  would  for  a  moment  doubt  that  now 
here  was  a  great  to-do,  and  talk  of  John  Eidd,  and  his  wedding. 
The  fierce  fight  with  the  Doones  so  lately,  and  my  leading  of 
the  combat  (though  I  fought  not  more  than  need  be),  and  the 
vanishing  of  Sir  Counsellor,  and  the  galloping  madness  of 
Carver,  and  the  religious  fear  of  the  women  that  this  last  was 
gone  to  hell  —  for  he  himself  had  declared  that  his  aim,  while 
he  cut  through  our  yeomanry;  also  their  remorse,  that  he 
should  have  been  made  to  go  thither,  with  all  his  children  left 
behind  —  these  things,  I  say  (if  ever  I  can  again  contrive  to  say 
any  thing),  had  led  to  the  broadest  excitement  about  my  wed- 
ding of  Lorna.  We  heard  that  people  meant  to  come  from 
more  than  thirty  miles  around,  upon  excuse  of  seeing  my 
stature  and  Lorna' s  beauty;  but  in  good  truth  out  of  sheer 
curiosity,  and  the  love  of  meddling. 

Our  clerk  had  given  notice,  that  not  a  man  shoiild  come 
inside  the  door  of  his  church  witliout  shilling-fee ;  and  women 
(as  sure  to  see  twice  as  much)  must  every  one  pay  two  shillings. 
I  thought  this  wrong ;  and,  as  churchwarden,  begged  that  the 
money  might  be  paid  into  mine  own  hands,  when  taken.  But 
the  clerk  said  that  was  against  all  law ;  and  he  had  orders  from 
the  parson  to  pay  it  to  him  without  any  delay.  So  as  I  always 
obey  the  parson,  when  I  care  not  much  about  a  thing,  I  let 
them  have  it  their  own  way ;  though  feeling  inclined  to  believe, 
sometimes,  that  I  ought  to  have  some  of  the  money. 

Dear  mother  arranged  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  way  in 
which  it  was  to  be  done ;  and  Annie,  and  Lizzie,  and  all  the 
Snowes,  and  even  Kuth  Huckaback  (who  was  there,  after  great 
persuasion),  made  such  a  sweeping  of  dresses,  that  I  scarcely 


BLOOD    UPON    THE  ALTAR.  283 

knew  where  to  place  my  feet,  and  longed  for  a  staff,  to  put  by 
their  gowns.  Then  Lorna  came  out  of  a  pew  half-way,  in  a 
manner  which  quite  astonished  me,  and  took  my  left  hand  in 
her  right,  and  I  prayed  God  that  it  were  done  with. 

My  darling  looked  so  glorious,  that  I  was  afraid  of  glancing 
at  her,  yet  took  in  all  her  beauty.  She  was  in  a  fright,  no 
doubt ;  but  nobody  should  see  it ;  whereas  I  said  (to  myself  at 
least),  "I  will  go  through  it  like  a  grave-digger." 

Lorna's  dress  was  of  pure  white,  clouded  witli  faint  lavender 
(for  the  sake  of  the  old  Earl  Brandir),  and  as  simple  as  need 
be,  except  for  perfect  loveliness.  I  was  afraid  to  look  at  her, 
as  I  said  before,  except  when  each  of  us  said,  "  I  will ;  "  and 
then  each  dwelled  upon  the  other. 

It  is  impossible  for  any,  who  have  not  loved  as  I  have,  to 
conceive  my  joy  and  pride,  when  after  ring  and  all  was  done, 
and  the  parson  had  blessed  us,  Lorna  turned  to  look  at  me,  with 
her  playful  glance  subdued,  and  deepened  by  this  solemn  act. 

Her  eyes,  which  none  on  earth  may  ever  equal,  or  compare 
with,  told  me  such  a  tale  of  hope,  and  faith,  and  heart's  devo- 
tion, that  I  was  almost  amazed,  thoroughly  as  I  knew  them. 
Darling  eyes,  the  clearest  eyes,  the  loveliest,  the  most  loving 
eyes  —  the  sound  of  a  shot  rang  through  the  cliurch,  and  those 
eyes  were  dim  with  death. 

Lorna  fell  across  my  knees,  when  I  was  going  to  kiss  her,  as 
the  bridegroom  is  allowed  to  do,  and  encouraged,  if  he  needs 
it ;  a  flood  of  blood  came  out  upon  the  yelloAV  wood  of  the  altar 
steps;  and  at  my  feet  lay  Lorna,  trying  to  tell  me  some  last 
message  out  of  her  faitliful  eyes.  I  ^ifted  her  up,  and  petted 
her,  and  coaxed  her,  but  it  was  no  good;  the  only  sign  of  life 
remaining  was  a  drip  of  bright  red  blood. 

Some  men  know  wliat  tilings  befall  them  in  tlie  supreme  time 
of  their  life  —  far  above  the  time  of  death  —  but  to  me  comes 
back  as  a  hazy  dream,  witliout  any  knowledge  in  it,  wluit  I  did, 
or  felt,  or  thought,  with  my  wife's  arms  flagging,  flagging, 
around  my  neck,  as  I  raised  her  up,  and  softly  put  thom  there. 
She  sighed  a  long  sigh  on  my  breast,  for  her  last  farewell  to 
life,  and  then  she  grew  so  cold,  and  cold,  that  I  asked  the  time 
of  year. 

It  was  now  Whit-Tuesday,  and  the  lilacs  all  in  blossom; 
and  why  I  thought  of  the  time  of  year,  with  the  young  death  in 
my  arms,  God,  or  ILis  angels,  may  decide,  having  so  strangely 
given  us.  Enough  that  so  I  did,  and  looked;  and  our  white 
lilacs  were  beautiliil.  Then  I  laid  my  wife  in  my  mother's 
arms,  and  begging  that  no  one  would  make  a  noise,  went  forth 
for  my  revenge. 


284  LOBNA  DOONE. 

Of  course,  I  knew  who  had  done  it.  There  was  but  one  man 
upon  earth,  or  under  it,  where  the  Devil  dwells,  who  could 
have  done  such  a  thing  —  such  a  thing.  I  used  no  harsher 
word  about  it,  while  I  leaped  upon  our  best  horse,  with  bridle 
but  no  saddle,  and  set  the  head  of  Kickums  towards  the  course 
now  pointed  out  to  me.  Wlio  showed  me  the  course,  I  cannot 
tell.  I  only  know  that  I  took  it.  And  the  men  fell  back 
before  me. 

Weapon  of  no  sort  had  I.  Unarmed,  and  wondering  at  my 
strange  attire  (with  a  bridal  vest,  wrought  by  our  Annie,  and 
red  with  the  blood  of  the  bride),  I  went  forth  just  to  lind  out 
this;  whether  in  this  world  there  be,  or  be  not,  God  of  justice. 

With  my  vicious  horse  at  a  furious  speed,  I  came  upon  Black 
Barrow  Down,  directed  by  some  shout  of  men,  which  seemed  to 
me  but  a  whisper.  And  there,  about  a  furlong  before  me,  rode 
a  man  on  a  great  black  horse ;  and  I  knew  that  the  man  was 
Carver  Doone. 

"Thy  life,  or  mine,"  I  said  to  myself;  "as  the  will  of  God 
may  be.  But  we  two  live  not  upon  this  earth,  one  more  hour, 
together." 

I  knew  the  strength  of  this  great  man;  and  I  knew  that  he 
was  armed  with  a  gun  —  if  he  had  time  to  load  again,  after 
shooting  my  Lorna, —  or  at  any  rate  with  pistols,  and  a  horse- 
man's sword  as  well.  Nevertheless,  I  had  no  more  doubt  of 
killing  the  man  before  me,  than  a  cook  has  of  spitting  a 
headless  fowl. 

Sometimes  seeing  no  ground  beneath  me,  and  sometimes 
heeding  every  leaf,  and  the  crossing  of  the  grass  blades,  I  fol- 
lowed over  the  long  moor,  reckless  whether  seen  or  not.  But 
only  once,  the  other  man  turned  round,  and  looked  back  again ; 
and  then  I  was  beside  a  rock,  with  a  reedy  swamp  behind  me. 

Although  he  was  so  far  before  me,  and  riding  as  hard  as 
ride  he  might,  I  saw  that  he  had  something  on  the  horse  in 
front  of  him;  something  which  needed  care,  and  stopped  him 
from  looking  backward.  In  the  whirling  of  my  wits,  I  fancied 
first  that  this  was  Lorna;  until  the  scene  I  had  been  through 
fell  across  hot  brain,  and  heart,  like  the  drop  at  the  close  of  a 
tragedy.  Rushing  there,  through  crag  and  quag,  at  utmost 
speed  of  a  maddened  horse,  I  saw,  as  of  another's  fate,  calmly 
(as  on  canvas  laid),  the  brutal  deed,  the  piteous  anguish,  and 
the  cold  despair. 

The  man  turned  up  the  gully  leading  from  the  moor  to 
Cloven  Rocks,  through  which  John  Fry  had  tracked  Uncle 
Ben,  as  of  old  related.     But  as  Carver  entered  it,  he  turned 


BLOOD    UFOJ^    THE  ALTAR.  285 

round,  and  beheld  me  not  a  hundred  yards  behind ;  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  bearing  his  child,  little  Ensie,  before  hiiu.  Ensie 
also  descried  me,  and  stretched  his  hands,  and  cried  to  mej 
for  the  face  of  his  father  frightened  him. 

Carver  Doone,  with  a  vile  oath,  thrust  spurs  into  his  flag- 
ging horse,  and  laid  one  liand  on  a  pistol-stock,  whence  I  knew 
that  his  slung  carbine  had  received  no  bullet,  since  the  one 
that  had  pierced  Lorna.  And  a  cry  of  triumph  rose  from  the 
black  depths  of  my  heart.  What  cared  I  for  pistols?  I  had 
no  spurs,  neitlier  was  my  horse  one  to  need  the  rowel;  I 
rather  held  him  in  than  urged  him,  for  he  was  fresh  as  ever; 
and  I  knew  that  the  black  steed  in  front,  if  he  breasted  the 
steep  ascent,  where  the  track  divided,  must  be  in  our  reach  at 
once. 

His  rider  knew  this;  and,  having  no  room  in  the  rocky 
channel  to  turn  and  fire,  drew  rein  at  the  crossways  sliarply, 
and  plunged  into  the  black  ravine  leading  to  the  Wizard's 
Slough.  "Is  it  so?"  I  said  to  myself,  with  brain  and  head 
cold  as  iron:  "though  the  foul  fiend  come  from  the  slough, 
to  save  thee;  thou  shalt  carve  it.  Carver." 

I  followed  my  enemy  carefully,  steadily,  even  leisurely;  for 
I  had  him,  as  in  a  pitfall,  whence  no  escape  might  be.  He 
thought  that  I  feared  to  approacli  him,  for  he  knew  not  where 
he  was  :  and  his  low  disdainful  laugh  came  back.  "  Laugh  he 
who  wins,"  thought  I. 

A  gnarled  and  half-starved  oak,  as  stubborn  as  my  own 
resolve,  and  smitten  by  some  storm  of  old,  hung  from  the  crag 
above  me.  Rising  from  my  horse's  back,  although  I  had  no 
stirrups,  I  caught  a  limb,  and  tore  it  (like  a  wheat-awn)  from 
the  socket.  Men  show  the  rent  even  now,  with  wonder ;  none 
with  more  wonder  than  myself. 

Carver  Doone  turned  the  corner  suddenly,  on  the  black  and 
bottomless  bog;  with  a  start  of  fear  he  reinSd  back  his  horse, 
and  I  thought  he  would  have  rushed  upon  me.  But  in- 
stead of  that,  he  again  rode  on ;  hoping  to  find  a  way  round 
the  side. 

Now  there  is  a  way  between  cliff  and  slough,  for  those  who 
know  the  ground  thorouglily,  or  have  time  enough  to  searcli 
it;  but  for  liim  there  was  no  road,  and  he  lost  some  time  in 
seeking  it.  Upon  this  he  jiiade  up  his  mind;  and  wheeling, 
fired,  and  then  rode  at  me. 

His  bullet  struck  me  somewhere,  l)ut  I  took  no  lieed  of  that. 
Fearing  only  his  escaite,  I  laid  my  horse  across  the  way,  and 
with  the  limb  of   the    oak   struck   full  on  the  forehead  his 


286  LOIiNA   BOONE. 

charging  steed.  Ere  the  slash  of  the  sword  came  nigh  me, 
man  and  horse  rolled  over,  and  well-nigh  bore  my  own  horse 
down,  with  the  power  of  their  onset. 

Carver  Doone  was  somewhat  stunned,  and  could  not  arise 
for  a  moment.  Meanwhile  I  leaped  on  the  ground,  and  waited, 
smoothing  my  hair  back,  and  baring  my  arms,  as  though  in 
the  ring  for  wrestling.  Then  the  little  boy  ran  to  me,  clasped 
my  leg,  and  looked  up  at  me :  and  the  terror  in  his  eyes  made 
me  almost  fear  myself. 

"Ensie,  dear,"  I  said  quite  gently,  grieving  that  he  should 
see  his  wicked  father  killed,  "  run  up  yonder  round  the  corner, 
and  try  to  find  a  bunch  of  bluebells  for  the  pretty  lady."  The 
child  obeyed  me,  hanging  back,  and  looking  back,  and  then 
laughing,  while  I  prepared  for  business.  There  and  then,  I 
might  have  killed  mine  enemy,  with  a  single  blow,  while  he 
lay  unconscious ;  but  it  would  have  been  f ovil  play. 

With  a  sullen  and  black  scowl,  the  Carver  gathered  his 
mighty  limbs,  and  arose,  and  looked  round  for  his  weapons; 
but  I  had  put  them  well  away.  Then  he  came  to  me,  and 
gazed,  being  wont  to  frighten  thus  young  men. 

"  I  would  not  harm  you,  lad, "  he  said,  with  a  lofty  style  of 
sneering :  "  I  have  punished  you  enough,  for  most  of  your 
impertinence.  For  the  rest  I  forgive  you;  because  you  have 
been  good,  and  gracious,  to  my  little  son.  Go,  and  be  con- 
tented." 

For  answer,  I  smote  him  on  the  cheek,  lightly,  and  not  to 
hurt  him :  but  to  make  his  blood  leap  up.  I  would  not  sully 
my  tongue,  by  speaking  to  a  man  like  this. 

There  was  a  level  space  of  sward,  between  us  and  the  slough. 
With  the  courtesy  derived  from  London,  and  the  processions 
I  had  seen,  to  this  place  I  led  him.  And  that  he  might 
breathe  himself,  and  have  every  fibre  cool,  and  every  muscle 
ready,  my  hold  tipon  his  coat  I  loosed,  and  left  him  to  begin 
with  me,  whenever  he  thought  proper. 

I  think  he  felt  that  his  time  was  come.  I  think  he  knew 
from  my  knitted  muscles,  and  the  firm  arch  of  my  breast,  and 
the  way  in  which  I  stood;  but  most  of  all  from  my  stern  blue 
eyes ;  that  he  had  found  his  master.  At  any  rate  a  paleness 
came,  an  ashy  paleness  on  his  cheeks,  and  the  vast  calves  of 
his  legs  bowed  in,  as  if  he  were  out  of  training. 

Seeing  this,  villain  as  he  was,  I  offered  him  first  chance. 
I  stretched  forth  my  left  hand,  as  I  do  to  a  weaker  antagonist, 
and  I  let  him  have  the  hug  of  me.  But  in  this  I  was  too  gen- 
erous; having  forgotten  my  pistol-wound,  and  the  cracking  of 


GIVE  AWAY  THE  GRANDEUR.  287 

one  of  my  short  lower  ribs.  Carver  Doone  caught  me  round 
the  waist,  with  such  a  grip  as  never  yet  had  been  hiid  upon  me. 

I  heard  my  rib  go ;  I  grasped  his  arm,  and  tore  the  muscle 
out  of  it  ^  (as  the  string  comes  out  of  an  orange) ;  then  I  took 
him  by  the  throat,  which  is  not  allowed  in  wrestling;  but  he 
had  snatched  at  mine;  and  now  was  no  time  of  dalliance.  In 
vain  he  tugged,  and  strained,  and  writhed,  dashed  his  bleed- 
ing fist  into  my  face,  and  flung  himself  on  me,  with  gnashing 
jaws.  Beneath  the  iron  of  my  strength  —  for  God  that  day 
was  with  me  —  I  had  him  helpless  in  two  minutes,  and  his 
blazing  eyes  lolled  out. 

"I  will  not  harm  thee  any  more,"  I  cried,  so  far  as  I  could 
for  panting,  the  work  being  very  furious :  "  Carver  Doone,  thou 
art  beaten:  own  it,  and  thank  God  for  it;  and  go  thy  way, 
and  repent  thyself." 

It  w^as  all  too  late.  Even  if  he  had  yielded  in  his  ravening 
frenzy,  for  his  beard  was  frothy  as  a  mad  dog's  jowl;  even 
if  he  would  have  owned  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he 
had  found  his  master;  it  was  all  too  late. 

The  black  bog  had  him  by  the  feet;  the  sucking  of  the 
ground  drew  on  him,  like  the  thirsty  lips  of  death.  In  our 
fury,  we  had  heeded  neither  wet  nor  dry,  nor  thought  of  earth 
beneath  us.  I  myself  might  scarcely  leap,  with  the  last 
spring  of  o'er-labored  legs,  from  the  engulfing  grave  of  slime. 
He  fell  back,  with  his  swarthy  breast  (from  which  my  gripe 
had  rent  all  clothing),  like  a  hummock  of  bog-oak,  standing 
out  the  quagmire;  and  then  he  tossed  his  arms  to  heaven, 
and  they  were  black  to  the  elbow,  and  the  glare  of  his  eyes  was 
ghastly.  I  could  only  gaze  and  pant:  for  my  strength  was  no 
more  than  an  infant's,  from  the  fury  and  the  horror.  Scarcely 
could  I  turn  away,  while,  joint  by  joint,  he  sank  from  sight. 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 

GIVE   AWAY    THE   GRANDEUR. 

When-  the  little  boy  came  back  with  the  bluebells,  which 
he  liad  managed  to  find  —  as  children  always  do  find  flowers, 
when  older  eyes  see  none  —  the  only  sign  of  his  fatlier  left 
was  a  dark  brown  bubble,  upon  a  new-formed  patch  of  black- 

^  A  far  more  terrible  clutcli  than  this  is  handed  down,  to  weaker  ages, 
of  the  great  John  Ridd- —  Ev.  L.  D. 


288  LOENA   BOONE. 

ness.  But  to  the  centre  of  its  pulpy  gorge,  tlie  greedy  slough 
was  heaving,  and  sullenly  grinding  its  weltering  jaws,  among 
the  flags,  and  the  sedges. 

With  pain,  and  ache,  both  of  mind  and  body,  and  shame  at 
my  own  fury,  I  heavily  mounted  my  horse  again,  and  looked 
down  at  the  innocent  Ensie.  Would  this  playful,  loving  child 
grow  up  like  his  cruel  father,  and  end  a  godless  life  of  hatred 
with  a  death  of  violence?  He  lifted  his  noble  forehead 
towards  me,  as  if  to  answer,  "  Nay,  I  will  not :  "  but  the  words 
he  spoke  were  these :  — 

"  Don  "  —  for  he  never  could  say  "  John  "  —  "  oh  Don,  I  am 
so  glad,  that  nasty  naughty  man  is  gone  away.  Take  me  home, 
Don.     Take  me  home." 

It  has  been  said  of  the  wicked,  "  Not  even  their  own  chil- 
dren love  them."  And  I  could  easily  believe  that  Carver 
Doone's  cold-hearted  ways  had  scared  from  him  even  his 
favorite  child.  No  man  would  I  call  truly  wicked,  vmless  his 
heart  be  cold. 

It  hurt  me,  more  than  I  can  tell,  even  through  all  other 
grief,  to  take  into  my  arms  the  child  of  the  man  just  slain  by 
me.  The  feeling  was  a  foolish  one,  and  a  wrong  one,  as  the 
thing  had  been  —  for  I  would  fain  have  saved  that  man,  after 
he  was  conquered  —  nevertheless  my  arms  went  coldly  round 
that  little  fellow;  neither  would  they  have  gone  at  all,  if  there 
had  been  any  help  for  it.  But  I  could  not  leave  him  there, 
till  some  one  else  might  fetch  him;  on  account  of  the  cruel 
slough,  and  the  ravens  which  had  come  hovering  over  the  dead 
horse;  neither  could  I,  with  my  wound,  tie  him  on  my  horse, 
and  walk. 

For  now  I  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  blood,  and  was  rather 
faint  and  weary.  And  it  was  lucky  for  me  that  Kickums  had 
lost  spirit,  like  his  master,  and  went  home  as  mildly  as  a 
lamb.  For,  when  we  came  towards  the  farm,  I  seemed  to  be 
riding  in  a  dream  almost;  and  the  voices  both  of  men  and 
women  (who  had  hurried  forth  upon  my  track),  as  they  met 
me,  seemed  to  wander  from  a  distant  muffling  cloud.  Only 
the  thought  of  Lorna's  death,  like  a  heavy  knell,  was  tolling 
in  the  belfry  of  my  brain. 

When  we  came  to  the  stable  door,  I  rather  fell  from  my 
horse  than  got  off;  and  John  Fry,  with  a  look  of  wonder,  took 
Kickums'  head,  and  led  him  in.  Into  the  old  farm-house  I 
tottered,  like  a  weanling  child,  with  mother  in  her  common 
clothes,  helping  me  along,  yet  fearing,  except  by  stealth,  to 
look  at  me. 


GIVE  AWAY   THE  GRANDEUR.  289 

"I  have  killed  liim,"  was  all  I  said;  "even  as  he  killed 
Lorna.  Now  let  me  see  my  wife,  mother.  She  belongs  to 
me  none  the  less,  though  dead." 

"You  cannot  see  her  now,  dear  John,"  said  Euth  Hucka- 
back, coming  forward;  since  no  one  else  had  the  courage. 
"Annie  is  with  her  now,  John." 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  Let  me  see  my  dead  one; 
and  then  die." 

All  the  women  fell  away,  and  Avhispered,  and  looked  at  me, 
M'ith  side-glances,  and  some  sobbing;  for  my  face  was  hard  as 
flint.  Ruth  alone  stood  by  me,  and  dropped  her  eyes,  and 
trembled.  Then  one  little  hand  of  hers  stole  into  my  great 
shaking  palm,  and  the  other  was  laid  on  my  tattered  coat :  yet 
with  her  clothes  she  shunned  my  blood,  while  she  whispered 
gently,— 

"  John,  she  is  not  your  dead  one.  She  may  even  be  your 
living  one  yet,  your  wife,  your  home,  and  your  happiness. 
But  you  must  not  see  her  now." 

"Is  there  any  chance  for  her?  For  me,  I  mean;  for  me,  I 
mean?" 

"  God  in  heaven  knows,  dear  John.  But  the  sight  of  you, 
and  in  this  sad  plight,  would  be  certain  death  to  her.  Now 
come  first,  and  be  healed  yourself." 

I  obeyed  her,  like  a  child,  whispering  only  as  I  went,  for 
none  but  myself  knew  her  goodness  —  "  Almighty  God  will 
bless  you,  darling,  for  the  good  you  are  doing  now." 

Tenfold,  ay  and  a  thousandfold,  I  prayed  and  I  believed  it, 
when  I  came  to  know  the  truth.  If  it  had  not  been  for  this 
little  maid,  Lorna  must  have  died  at  once,  as  in  my  arms  she 
lay  for  dead,  from  tlie  dastard  and  murderous  cruelty.  But 
the  moment  I  left  her  Euth  came  forward,  and  took  the  com- 
mand of  every  one,  in  right  of  her  firmness  and  readiness. 

She  made  them  bear  her  home  at  once  upon  the  door  of  the 
pulpit,  with  the  cushion  under  the  drooping  head.  With  her 
own  little  hands  she  cut  off,  as  tenderly  as  a  pear  is  peeled, 
the  bridal-dress  so  steeped  and  stained,  and  then  with  her 
dainty  trans])arent  fingers  (no  larger  than  a  pencil)  slio  probed 
the  vile  wound  in  the  si<h',  and  fetched  the  recking  bullet 
forth;  and  then  with  the  coldest  water  staunched  the  flowing 
of  the  life-blood.  All  this  while,  my  darling  lay  insensible, 
and  white  as  dc^ath;  and  the  rest  declared  that  she  was  dead, 
and  needed  nothing  but  her  maiden  shroud. 

But  Ruth  still  sponged  tlie  poor  side  and  forehead,  and 
watched  the  long  eyelaslies  flat  upon  the  marl)le  cheek;  and 

VOL.  U. —  19 


290  LOBNA  BOONE. 

laid  her  pure  face  on  the  faint  heart,  and  bade  them  fetch  her 
Spanish  wine.  Then  she  parted  the  pearly  teeth  (feebly 
clenched  on  the  hovering  breath),  and  poured  in  wine  from  a 
christening  spoon,  and  raised  the  graceful  neck  and  breast, 
and  stroked  the  delicate  throat,  and  waited;  and  then  poured 
in  a  little  more. 

Annie  all  the  while  looked  on,  with  horror  and  amazement, 
counting  herself  no  second-rate  nurse,  and  this  as  against  all 
theory.  But  the  quiet  lifting  of  Ruth's  hand,  and  one  glance 
from  her  dark  bright  eyes,  told  Annie  just  to  stand  away, 
and  not  intercept  the  air  so.  And  at  the  very  moment,  when 
all  the  rest  had  settled  that  Ruth  was  a  simple  idiot,  but 
could  not  harm  the  dead  much,  a  little  flutter  in  the  throat, 
followed  by  a  short  low  sigh,  made  them  pause,  and  look,  and 
hope. 

For  hours,  however,  and  days,  she  lay  at  the  very  verge  of 
death,  kept  alive  by  nothing  but  the  care,  the  skill,  the  ten- 
derness, and  perpetual  watchfulness  of  Ruth.  Luckily  Annie 
was  not  there  very  often,  so  as  to  meddle ;  for  kind  and  clever 
nurse  as  she  was,  she  must  have  done  more  harm  than  good. 
But  my  broken  rib,  which  was  set  by  a  doctor,  who  chanced 
to  be  at  the  wedding,  was  allotted  to  Annie's  care;  and  great 
inflammation  ensuing,  it  was  quite  enough  to  content  her. 
This  doctor  had  pronounced  poor  Lorna  dead;  wherefore 
Ruth  refused  most  firmly  to  have  aught  to  do  with  him.  She 
took  the  whole  case  on  herself;  and  with  God's  help,  she  bore 
it  through. 

Now  whether  it  were  the  light,  and  brightness  of  my  Lorna's 
nature,  or  the  freedom  from  anxiety  —  for  she  knew  not  of 
my  hurt ;  —  or,  as  some  people  said,  her  birthright  among 
wounds  and  violence,  or  her  manner  of  not  drinking  beer, —  I 
leave  that  doctor  to  determine,  who  pronounced  her  dead. 
But  any  how,  one  thing  is  certain ;  sure  as  the  stars  of  hope 
above  us,  Lorna  recovered  long  ere  I  did. 

On  me  lay  overwhelming  sorrow,  having  lost  my  love  and 
lover,  at  the  moment  she  was  mine.  With  the  power  of  fate 
upon  me,  and  the  black  cauldron  of  the  wizard's  death  boil- 
ing in  my  heated  brain,  I  had  no  faith  in  the  tales  they  told. 
I  believed  that  Lorna  was  in  the  churchyard,  while  these 
rogues  were  lying  to  me.  For  with  strength  of  blood  like 
mine,  and  power  of  heart  behind  it,  a  broken  bone  must  burn 
himself. 

Mine  went  hard  with  fires  of  pain,  being  of  such  size  and 
thickness;  and  I  was  ashamed  of  him  for  breaking  by  reason 


GIVE  AWAY  THE  GRANDEUR.  291 

of  a  pistol-ball,  and  the  mere  hug  of  a  man.  And  it  fetched 
me  down  in  conceit  of  strength ;  so  that  I  was  careful  after- 
wards. 

All  this  was  a  lesson  to  me.  All  this  made  me  very  humble; 
illness  being  a  thing,  as  yet,  altogether  unknown  to  me.  Not 
that  I  cried  small,  or  skulked,  or  feared  the  death  which  some 
foretold :  shaking  their  heads  about  mortification,  and  a  green 
appearance.  Only  that  I  seemed  quite  fit  to  go  to  heaven,  and 
Lorna.  For  in  my  sick  distracted  mind  (stirred  with  many 
tossings),  like  the  bead  in  a  wisp  of  frog-spawn  drifted  by 
the  current,  hung  the  black  and  worthless  burden  of  the  life 
before  me.  A  life  without  Lorna;  a  tadpole  life.  All  stupid 
head;  and  no  body. 

Many  men  may  like  such  life;  anchorites,  fakirs,  high- 
priests,  and  so  on;  but  to  my  mind,  it  is  not  the  native  thing 
God  meant  for  us.  My  dearest  mother  Avas  a  show,  with 
crying,  and  with  fretting.  The  Doones,  as  she  thought,  were 
born  to  destroy  us.  Scarce  had  she  come  to  some  liveliness 
(though  sprinkled  with  tears,  every  now  and  then)  after  her 
great  bereavement,  and  ten  years'  time  to  dwell  on  it  —  when 
lo,  here  was  her  husband's  son,  the  pet  child  of  her  own  good 
John,  murdered  like  his  father !  Well,  the  ways  of  God  were 
wonderful! 

So  they  were,  and  so  they  are,  and  so  they  ever  will  be. 
Let  us  debate  them  as  we  will,  our  ways  are  His,  and  much 
the  same;  only  second-hand  from  Him.  And  I  expected 
something  from  Him,  even  in  my  worst  of  times,  knowing 
that  I  had  done  my  best. 

This  is  not  edifying  talk  —  as  the  Puritans  used  to  remind 
my  father,  when  there  was  no  more  to  drink  —  therefore  let 
me  only  tell  what  became  of  Lorna.  One  day,  I  was  sitting 
in  my  bed-room,  for  I  could  not  get  downstairs,  and  there  was 
no  one  strong  enough  to  carry  me,  even  if  I  would  have 
borne  it. 

Though  it  cost  me  sore  trouble  and  weariness,  I  liad  put  on 
all  my  Sunday  clothes,  out  of  resi)ect  for  the  doctor,  who  was 
coming  to  bleed  me  again  (as  he  always  did,  twice  a  week); 
and  it  struck  me,  that  he  had  seemed  hurt  in  his  mind,  be- 
cause I  wore  my  worst  clothes  to  be  bled  in  —  for  lie  in  bed  I 
would  not,  after  six  o'clock;  and  even  that  was  great  laziness. 

I  looked  at  my  right  hand,  whose  grasp  had  been  like  that 
of  a  blacksinitli's  vice;  and  it  seemed  to  myself  iinpossihle, 
that  this  couhl  be  John  liidd's.  Tlie  great  fnuiie  of  the  hand 
was  there,  as  well  as  tlie  muscles,  standing  forth  like  the  gut- 


292  LORNA  BOONE. 

tering  of  a  candle,  and  the  broad  blue  veins,  going  up  the 
back,  and  crossing  every  finger.  But  as  for  color,  even  Lorna's 
could  scarcely  have  been  whiter;  and  as  for  strength,  little 
Ensie  Doone  might  have  come  and  held  it  fast.  I  laughed, 
as  I  tried  in  vain  to  lift  the  basin  set  for  bleeding  me. 

Then  I  thought  of  all  the  lovely  things  going  on  out  of 
doors  just  now,  concerning  which  the  drowsy  song  of  the  bees 
came  to  me.  These  must  be  among  the  thyme,  by  the  sound 
of  their  great  content.  Therefore  the  roses  must  be  in  blos- 
som, and  the  woodbine,  and  clove-gilly-flower;  the  cherries  on 
the  wall  must  be  turning  red,  and  the  first  brood  of  thrushes 
come  to  watch  them  do  it,  wheat  must  be  callow  with  a 
tufted  quivering,  and  the  early  meadows  swathed  with  hay. 

Yet  here  was  I,  a  helpless  creature,  quite  unfit  to  stir 
among  them,  gifted  with  no  sight,  no  scent  of  all  the  changes 
that  move  our  love,  and  lead  our  hearts,  from  month  to 
month,  along  the  quiet  path  of  life.  And  what  was  worse,  I 
had  no  hope  of  caring  ever  for  them  more. 

Presently  a  little  knock  sounded  through  my  gloomy  room, 
and  supposing  it  to  be  the  doctor,  I  tried  to  rise,  and  make 
my  bow.  But  to  my  surprise,  it  was  little  Kuth,  who  had 
never  once  come  to  visit  me,  since  I  was  placed  under  the 
doctor's  hands.  Ruth  was  dressed  so  gaily,  with  rosettes, 
and  flowers,  and  what  not,  that  I  was  sorry  for  her  bad  man- 
ners; and  thought  she  was  come  to  conquer  me,  now  that 
Lorna  was  done  with. 

Ruth  ran  towards  me,  with  sparkling  eyes,  being  rather 
short  of  sight;  then  suddenly  she  stopped,  and  I  saw  entire 
amazement  in  her  face. 

"Can  you  receive  visitors.  Cousin  Ridd?  —  why,  they  never 
told  me  of  this ! "  she  cried :  "  I  knew  that  you  were  weak, 
dear  John;  but  not  that  you  were  dying.  Whatever  is  that 
basin  for?" 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  dying,  Ruth ;  and  I  like  not  to  talk 
about  it.  But  that  basin,  if  you  must  know,  is  for  the  doc- 
tor's purpose." 

"What,  do  you  mean  bleeding  you?  You  poor  weak  cousin! 
Is  it  possible  that  he  does  that  still?  " 

"  Twice  a  week  for  the  last  six  weeks,  dear.  Nothing  else 
has  kept  me  alive." 

"  Nothing  else  has  killed  you,  nearly.  There !  "  and  she  set 
her  little  boot  across  the  basin,  and  crushed  it.  "Not  another 
drop  shall  they  have  from  you.  Is  Annie  such  a  fool  as  that? 
And  Lizzie,  like  a  zany,  at  her  books!  And  killing  their 
brother,  between  them !  " 


GIVE  A  WAT  THE  GRANDEUR.  293 

I  was  surprised  to  see  Ruth  excited;  her  character  being  so 
calm  and  quiet.  And  I  tried  to  soothe  her  with  my  feeble 
hand,  as  now  she  knelt  before  me. 

"  Dear  cousin,  the  doctor  must  know  best.  Annie  says  so, 
every  day.     Else  what  has  he  been  brought  up  for?  " 

"  Brought  up  for  slaying,  and  murdering.  Twenty  doctors 
killed  King  Charles,  in  spite  of  all  the  women.  Will  you 
leave  it  to  me,  John?  I  have  a  little  will  of  my  own;  and  I 
am  not  afraid  of  doctors.  Will  you  leave  it  to  me,  dear 
John?  I  have  saved  your  Lorna's  life.  And  now  I  will  save 
yours;  which  is  a  far,  far  easier  business." 

"You  have  saved  my  Lorna's  life!  What  do  you  mean  by 
talking  so?" 

"  Only  what  I  say.  Cousin  John.  Though  perhaps  I  over- 
prize my  work.     But  at  any  rate  she  says  so." 

"  I  do  not  understand, "  I  said,  falling  back  with  bewilder- 
ment, "all  women  are  such  liars." 

"Have  you  ever  known  me  tell  a  lie?"  cried  Ruth  in  great 
indignation  —  more  feigned,  I  doubt,  than  real  —  "  your 
mother  may  tell  a  story,  now  and  then,  when  she  feels  it 
right;  and  so  may  both  your  sisters.  But  so  you  cannot  do, 
John  Ridd;  and  no  more  than  you,  can  I  do  it." 

If  ever  there  was  virtuous  truth  in  the  eyes  of  any  woman, 
it  was  now  in  the  eyes  of  Ruth  Huckaback:  and  my  brain 
began  very  slowly  to  move,  the  heart  being  almost  torpid, 
from  perpetual  loss  of  blood. 

"  I  do  not  understand, "  was  all  I  could  say,  for  a  very  long 
time. 

"  Will  you  understand,  if  I  show  you  Lorna?  I  have 
feared  to  do  it,  for  the  sake  of  you  both.  But  now  Lorna  is 
well  enough,  if  you  think  that  you  are.  Cousin  John.  Surely 
you  will  understand,  when  you  see  your  wife." 

Following  her,  to  the  very  utmost  of  my  mind  and  heart,  I 
felt  that  all  she  said  was  truth;  and  yet  I  could  not  make  it 
out.  And  in  her  last  few  words,  there  was  such  a  power  of 
sadness,  rising  through  the  cover  of  gaiety,  tliat  I  said  to 
myself,  half  in  dream,  "Ruth  is  very  beautiful." 

Before  I  had  time  to  listen  much  for  the  approach  of  foot- 
steps, Ruth  came  back,  and  behind  her  Lorna;  coy  as  if  of 
her  bridegroom;  and  hanging  back  with  her  beauty.  Ruth 
banged  the  door,  and  ran  away;  and  Lorna  stood  before  me. 

But  she  did  not  stand  for  an  instant,  wlien  she  saw  wliat  I 
was  like.  At  the  risk  of  all  thick  bandages,  and  upsetting  a 
dozen  medicine  bottles,  and  scattering  leeches  right  and  left. 


294  LORNA   BOONE. 

she  managed  to  get  into  my  arms,  although  they  could  not 
hold  her.  She  laid  her  panting  warm  young  breast  on  the 
place  where  they  meant  to  bleed  me,  and  she  set  my  pale 
face  up;  and  she  would  not  look  at  me,  having  greater  faith 
in  kissing. 

I  felt  my  life  come  back,  and  glow;  I  felt  my  trust  in  God 
revive;  I  felt  the  joy  of  living  and  of  loving  dearer  things 
than  life.  It  is  not  a  moment  to  describe;  who  feels  can 
never  tell  of  it.  But  the  compassion  of  my  sweetheart's 
tears,  and  the  caressing  of  my  bride's  lips,  and  the  throbbing 
of  my  wife's  heart  (now  at  last  at  home  on  mine)  made  me 
feel  that  the  world  was  good,  and  not  a  thing  to  be  weary  of. 

Little  more  have  I  to  tell.  The  doctor  was  turned  out  at 
once ;  and  slowly  came  back  my  former  strength,  with  a  dar- 
ling wife,  and  good  victuals.  As  for  Lorna,  she  never  tired 
of  sitting  and  watching  me  eat  and  eat.  And  such  is  her 
heart,  that  she  never  tires  of  being  with  me  here  and  there, 
among  the  beautiful  places,  and  talking  with  her  arm  around 
me  —  so  far  at  least  as  it  can  go,  though  half  of  mine  may  go 
round  her  —  of  the  many  fears,  and  troubles,  dangers  and  dis- 
couragements, and  worst  of  all  the  bitter  partings,  which  we 
used  to  undergo. 

There  is  no  need  for  my  farming  harder  than  becomes  a  man 
of  weight.  Lorna  has  great  stores  of  money,  though  we  never 
draw  it  out,  except  for  some  poor  neighbor;  unless  I  find  her 
a  sumptuous  dress,  out  of  her  own  perquisites.  And  this  she 
always  looks  upon  as  a  wondrous  gift  from  me;  and  kisses  me 
much  when  she  puts  it  on,  and  walks  like  the  noble  woman 
she  is.  And  yet  I  may  never  behold  it  again;  for  she  gets 
back  to  her  simple  clothes,  and  I  love  her  the  better  in  them. 
I  believe  that  she  gives  half  the  grandeur  away,  and  keeps  the 
other  half  for  the  children. 

As  for  poor  Tom  Faggus,  every  one  knows  his  bitter  adven- 
tures, when  his  pardon  was  recalled,  because  of  his  sally  to 
Sedgemoor.  Not  a  child  in  the  county,  I  doubt,  but  knows 
far  more  than  I  do  of  Tom's  most  desperate  doings.  The  law 
had  ruined  him  once,  he  said;  and  then  he  had  been  too  much 
for  the  law :  and  now  that  a  quiet  life  was  his  object,  here  the 
base  thing  came  after  him.  And  such  was  his  dread  of  this 
evil  spirit,  that  being  caught  upon  Barnstaple  Bridge,  with 
soldiers  at  either  end  of  it  (yet  doubtful  about  approaching 
him),  he  set  his  strawberry  mare,  sweet  Winnie,  at  the  left 
hand  parapet,  with  a  whisper  into  her  dove-colored  ear. 
Without   a   moment's  doubt  she  leaped  it,  into  the  foaming 


GIVE  AWAY  THE  GRANDEUR.  295 

tide,  and  swam,  and  landed  according  to  orders.  Also  his 
flight  from  a  public-house  (where  a  trap  was  set  for  him,  but 
Winnie  came,  and  broke  down  the  door,  and  put  two  men 
under,  and  trod  on  them),  is  as  well  known  as  any  ballad.  It 
was  reported  for  awhile  that  poor  Tom  had  been  caught  at  last, 
by  means  of  his  fondness  for  liquor,  and  was  hanged  before 
Taunton  Gaol;  but  luckily  we  knew  better.  With  a  good 
wife,  and  a  wonderful  horse,  and  all  the  country  attached  to 
him,  he  kept  the  law  at  a  wholesome  distance,  until  it  became 
too  much  for  its  master;  and  a  new  king  arose.  Upon  this, 
Tom  sued  his  pardon  afresh;  and  Jeremy  Stickles,  who  suited 
the  times,  was  glad  to  help  him  in  getting  it,  as  well  as  a  com- 
pensation. Thereafter,  the  good  and  respectable  Tom  lived  a 
godly  and  righteous  (though  not  always  sober)  life;  and 
brought  up  his  children  to  honesty,  as  the  first  of  all 
qualifications. 

My  dear  mother  was  as  happy  as  possibly  need  be  with  us; 
having  no  cause  for  jealousy,  as  others  arose  around  her. 
And  every  body  was  well  pleased,  when  Lizzie  came  in  one 
day  and  tossed  her  book-shelf  over,  and  declared  that  she 
would  have  Cajjtain  Bloxham,  and  nobody  should  prevent  her. 
For  that  he  alone,  of  all  the  men  she  had  ever  met  with, 
knew  good  writing  when  he  saw  it,  and  could  spell  a  word 
when  told.  As  he  had  now  succeeded  to  Captain  Stickles' 
position  (Stickles  going  up  the  tree),  and  had  the  power  of 
collecting,  and  of  keeping,  what  he  liked,  there  was  nothing 
to  be  said  against  it ;  and  we  hoped  that  he  would  pay  her  out. 

I  sent  little  Ensie  to  Blundell's  school,  at  my  own  cost  and 
charges,  having  changed  his  name,  for  fear  of  what  any  one 
might  do  to  him.  I  called  him  "Ensie  Jones;"  and  I  hope 
that  he  will  be  a  credit  to  us.  For  the  bold  adventurous  nature 
of  the  Doones  broke  out  on  him,  and  we  got  him  a  commission, 
and  after  many  scrapes  of  spirit,  he  did  great  things  in  the 
Low  Countries.  He  looks  upon  me  as  his  father;  and  with- 
out my  leave,  will  not  lay  claim  to  the  heritage,  and  title  of 
the  Doones,  which  clearly  belong  to  him. 

Kuth  Huckaback  is  not  married  yet:  although  upon  Uncle 
Reuben's  death  she  came  into  all  his  property;  except,  indei'd, 
£2000,  wliich  Uncle  Ben,  in  his  driest  manner,  bequeathed 
"to  Sir  John  Ridd,  the  worshipful  kniglit,  for  greasing  of  the 
testator's  boots."  And  he  left  almost  a  mint  of  mouc^y,  not 
from  the  mine,  but  from  tlie  shop,  and  tlie  good  use  of  usury. 
For  the  mine  had  brought  in  just  what  it  cost,  when  the  vein 
of  gold  ended  suddenly;  leaving  all  concerned  much  older,  and 


296  LOENA   BOONE. 

some,  I  fear,  much  poorer ;  but  no  one  utterly  ruined,  as  is  tlie 
case  with  most  of  them.  Ruth  herself  was  his  true  mine,  as 
upon  death-bed  he  found.  I  know  a  man  even  worthy  of  her : 
and  though  she  is  not  very  young,  he  loves  her,  as  I  love 
Lorna.  More  and  more  I  hope,  and  think,  that  in  the  end  he 
will  win  her;  and  I  do  not  mean  to  dance  again,  except  at 
dear  Ruth's  wedding;  if  a  floor  can  be  found  strong  enough. 

Of  Lorna,  of  my  lifelong  darling,  of  my  more  and  more  loved 
wife,  I  will  not  talk;  for  it  is  not  seemly,  that  a  man  should 
exalt  his  pride.  Year  by  year,  her  beauty  grows,  with  the 
growth  of  goodness,  kindness,  and  true  happiness  —  above  all 
with  loving.  For  change,  she  makes  a  joke  of  this,  and  plays 
with  it,  and  laughs  at  it ;  and  then,  when  my  slow  nature  mar- 
vels, back  she  comes  to  the  earnest  thing.  And  if  I  wish  to 
pay  her  out  for  something  very  dreadful  —  as  may  happen 
once  or  twice,  when  we  become  too  gladsome  —  I  bring  her  to 
forgotten  sadness,  and  to  me  for  cure  of  it,  by  the  two  words, 
*' Lorna  Doone." 


THE  END. 


Electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston. 


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